


A Grain of Sand

by Always_jbj



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Dimension Travel, F/M, Season/Series 06
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-30
Updated: 2011-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-11 08:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 25,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/110466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Always_jbj/pseuds/Always_jbj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in Season 6 somewhere around 'Life Serial' and goes very AR from there as slayer and vampire find themselves scouring dimensions. Will their search be in vain? And what will they learn along the way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Sandy_S for the gorgeous banner that inspired this fic.
> 
> Thanks also to my wonderful betas AmyB and Slaymesoftly.
> 
> Completed April 2010

 

Gone!  

In a heartbeat. No.  Less. 

Light pulsed and flashed blindingly. The scent of ozone hung heavily on the air, and an eerie, high-pitched scream rent the deathly-still night, tearing painfully at his ears. And then she was gone, as if she had never been there at all. 

“No!” 

A ragged cry sounded from somewhere, a painful tormented keening that left the listener heartbroken. It was long moments before he realised that the grief-ridden cry was being torn from his own throat. 

~*~ 

She'd thought she'd known what pain was; after all, pain was all she'd known since she'd been dragged back to this world. Pain, or numbness, but very little in between; she wasn’t entirely sure which of the two was worse.  

The only time things were bearable was in the dim light and the quiet, soothing company that she found, ironically enough, in a crypt. That was where she belonged. With the dead. Only her friends wouldn’t allow her to stay there—no more so now than when she had been in heaven. If she was gone too long, they asked questions. If they found her talking to Spike, there were the glares and the worried looks, and when they thought she couldn't hear, there were the nasty, cruel words directed towards the vampire who had fought at their sides and protected them over the summer months. So she put on a happy face, tried to make them believe that everything was alright, that she was happy to have been brought back here—to where everything was hard, and harsh, and a constant daily struggle.  

She couldn’t tell them, couldn’t let them know what they'd done. It would just cause more pain. And then there would be more of the sideways glances and the worried looks. No, she couldn’t tell those who were nearest and dearest to her the truth about where she had been; the only one she could tell was Spike. He didn’t look at her like he expected her to ‘get over it;’ he didn’t give her pitying glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. He was just _there_ for her.  He allowed her to be quiet and still—not pushing her for conversation or asking her to be all right, not asking her to be… anything. Just allowing her to ‘be’.  He offered her peace in a world of pain. 

Now, there was no peace that could be offered, and the pain she had known seemed meaningless—an empty echo in contrast to the excruciating agony that currently gripped her.  

Gone! 

She was gone. In less time than it took to draw a breath, her world was turned upside down, and she learned the true meaning of pain. 

***** 

They had been walking through the early evening, Dawn chattering away as usual, and both of them had smiled indulgently at her enthusiasm. Spike distracted Dawn whenever her nattering touched upon something a little too raw, a little too close to the painful wound that Buffy carried in her heart—where she had been while she was ‘away’ for the summer. 

Anyone watching them would have thought they were a happy family out for an early evening stroll, albeit a stroll through the unlikely setting of one of Sunnydale’s many cemeteries. And there, in that setting, Buffy knew one of the moments of almost-happiness that she had experienced so rarely in the weeks since her resurrection.  

For some reason, time spent with Dawn and Spike was like that; it was strange to her that, amidst the mayhem of Dawn’s relentless noise and boundless energy, she was still able to find peace.  Not that time alone with her sister and her former enemy was a common event; her friends seemed to feel the need to surround her at all times.  She knew that their actions stemmed from concern, worry, love; she knew this, but it didn’t make it any easier to bear. 

One moment Dawn had been regaling them with a story about an unfortunate classmate and a pot of paint in art class that day, her face animated as she recalled the incident in every minute detail. In the next, a blinding light had incapacitated them all, a shrieking high-pitched wail accompanied by the distinctive scent of ozone hanging heavily on the air.

A large red demon had appeared before them; watched through tear-blurred eyes by her companions, it had snatched Dawn up before either of them could move and, in yet another light-accompanied scream, had vanished as quickly as it had appeared, Dawn’s terrified cries for them to help her echoing plaintively in the still night air. 

***** 

Spike forced himself to his feet, his ears still ringing from the strange, siren-like wail, his eyes streaming—whether as an after-effect of the light or from the grief that filled him at the loss of Dawn, he couldn’t say.  He couldn’t think far beyond the fact that she had been taken, this little girl who, over the last few months, had become his world, his only reason to continue after the slayer’s death.  He staggered to where Buffy lay, curled tightly in a ball, her sobs wrenching further at his already aching heart. He knelt, gathering her into his lap and holding her tightly against his chest as he soothed her gently, stroking her hair and murmuring quietly.  He made meaningless sounds of comfort until he succeeded in calming her enough that he was able to break through the grief that gripped the girl to reach the slayer within. 

“C’mon, love. We need to move, Buffy. Need to find a way to get her back.” 

His words cut through the miasma of pain and grief—‘_get her back_’—and she latched on to the phrase with all the tenacity and determination of her former self. The Slayer picked herself up from the ground. “Let’s go,” she said firmly, drying her tears with a rough swipe of her hand. “We’ll stop by my place and call the others; my guess is the Magic Box is the best place to meet. Whatever we do is probably going to involve hocus pocus of some variety. At least we know Willow is up to it,” she continued bitterly. 


	2. Chapter 2

By the time everyone had gathered at the Magic Box, Buffy was pacing frantically, desperate to be on her way in search of the demon that had run off with her sister. Spike was sitting quietly on the counter, knowing better than to get in Buffy’s way while she was like this; he offered responses to her randomly voiced questions, but was otherwise silent. To an outsider the vampire would have appeared relaxed, the stoic contrast to the Slayer’s ceaseless motion; to anyone who knew him, however, the tenseness of his jaw, the ticking muscle in his cheek, the lean muscular body coiled for action, and the occasional flicker of amber in the deep blue eyes told an entirely different tale. 

The last of the Scoobies filed into the room, and Buffy launched herself into the details of the evening, with Spike filling in what gaps he could. 

“So, there you have it.” Buffy looked at each of them in turn. “Now, how do we find her and bring her back?” 

“From what you’ve described, it appears as though we are talking about a demon with the ability to transfer across dimensions.” Giles reached for a large tome amongst the stack of books currently littering the top of the research table. “There are a few different species with this inherent ability, although they are remarkably rare. Most fascinating, really,” he mused, looking up from the pages he was thumbing through.  The scholarly enthusiasm in his eyes slowly fizzled and then died as he caught his slayer’s irritated gaze.  

“Just tell me how I go after it,” she demanded. 

“What’s this ‘I’ business?” Spike interjected, catching and holding her eye. “I’m going with you. I told you I’d protect her to the end of the world. Way I figure it, that means in this universe or any other… makes no difference to me.” 

“You don’t have to, Spike.” Buffy’s voice was quiet; she was thankful for his offer but was unwilling to drag anyone else into the danger she was bound to be facing in order to reclaim her sister. _If she’s even still alive. _The thought flashed mercilessly across her mind, only to be banished firmly as she clung to the certainty that whatever this creature had been, it seemed to want Dawn alive—at least for now. All she knew was that she had to hurry; all this standing around talking—when all she wanted was to be catching and kicking some demon butt—was killing her. 

“Yes, I do.” Spike spoke slowly, emphasising each word.   

They stared silently for a moment, two warriors locked once more in battle, until one of them backed down. “Thank you, Spike.” Buffy capitulated gratefully.  

“You’re welcome, love. But ‘m not doing it for you.” There was no malice in his words, just simple truth.  He would cross universes for the young girl who'd won his heart, the girl who reminded him of his long-lost sister; he had been unable to protect _her_ from the cruelties of life, but he was determined that he would not likewise fail Dawn. 

Anya frowned thoughtfully.  She wasn’t sure that she could make them understand the futility of their quest, but felt she at least owed them enough that she should try. “You guys, do you realise what you’re talking about?” All eyes shifted to focus on the ex-demon as she continued. “If you picture the universe and all of its dimensions as a beach, a really big beach, then looking for Dawn would be like looking for a particular grain of sand on that beach. It could take you a millennia, and even then you still might not find her. What you’re suggesting is essentially impossible, even with the aid of something like an Iemlenu amulet.” 

“Well, then, I guess we’ll just have to do the impossible.” Spike turned unwavering blue eyes on the woman at his side, never doubting for a moment that they would be in accord. “Right, pet?”  

Buffy smiled gratefully, allowing herself to take strength from him, from his confidence and determination.  They would find Dawn; of that, she was certain. “Right,” she affirmed. “I mean, it’s not like the impossible is… impossible. We’ve done it before; we can…” 

“What was that you said, Anya?” Giles interrupted, frowning as he tried to recall the details of a distant memory that was tugging urgently at his mind. 

“That finding Dawn would be like looking for a grain of sand…” 

“No, not that. The amulet. You mentioned an amulet.”  

***** 

Spike scooped the newly-blessed amulet from the counter and handed it to Buffy, his gaze capturing hers for a moment, silently conveying his support and encouragement. 

Dragging her eyes away from the intensity of his stare, she turned to her friends, offering each in turn a bittersweet smile in lieu of the long speeches and tight, clinging embraces that she knew they would have preferred. She didn’t have it in her to offer such comforts, even if they'd had the time. She reached out and took Spike’s hand, her fingers entwining unhesitatingly with his. 

Turning at last to her watcher, she tried to ignore his suspicion-filled glance at her companion, and at their intricately joined hands.  She tried instead to focus on the love she felt for the man who was more a father to her than her own flesh-and-blood father. “We’ll find her, Giles; we’ll be back in no time. You’ll see.”

Giles swallowed hard, forcing back the tears that threatened at the thought of losing her again so soon after she had been returned to them. “Yes, of course. I have every confidence,” he offered, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on his slayer and refusing to allow it to wander to the vampire at her side.

“Will, Tara, do you mind?” Buffy asked quietly.

“Buffy, please, can’t you…” Willow’s pleas were cut off as Tara wrapped a supportive arm around her shoulders. 

“She’s my sister, Will. I _have_ to find her. I can’t _not_ try. Please?” Even as she spoke the words, Buffy didn’t know if her entreaty was for understanding, or for compliance; maybe a little of both. 

 

With a nod, Willow drew herself up, settling her features into a determined mask, grasping Tara’s hand as they spoke the last of the ritual words in unison. A faint glow began to form, and the stone warmed within its setting; as the chanting continued, the glow grew steadily stronger, until the light pouring from the amulet was unbearable to watch.  Just as Buffy began to fear that the stone would crack, that their only chance to find Dawn would be lost forever, the blinding light blinked out, leaving only the faintest trace of its luminosity trapped deeply within the enchanted amber of the Iemlenuamulet. 

Tightening her fingers around the vampire’s, she settled the amulet around her neck; grasping the stone firmly in her free hand, she spoke the words they had both practiced. She looked up in time to mouth a quick “thank you” to her friends before the world was spinning around her, there was a bright, blinding flash, and the air was thick with the scent of ozone.  Darkness engulfed her as the world disappeared. The firm, steadying grip of Spike’s hand in hers, and a deep penetrating coldness that seemed to settle in her bones, were the only sensations she could discern. 


	3. Chapter 3

The amulet was very closely related to those used by vengeance demons; where theirs were aligned to hone in on and guide the wearer towards pain in keeping with the individual’s specialty, the Iemlenu was aligned to pinpoint an individual’s signature.  Anya had explained to her captivated audience how each individual being had its own unique signature, or aura if you will, and that no other being in any of the multitudinous number of worlds and dimensions carried the same signature. Even doppelgangers, did not share a signature, given that each was an individual life-form capable of existing independently of the other. 

Creating the amulet had not been particularly difficult; it had, however, required that several hours of rituals and blessings be performed on the recipient stone, hours that had tried Buffy’s and Spike’s patience almost beyond the limit. The ritual had required some of Dawn’s hair; retrieving her hairbrush from the Summers’ house had at least given them an excuse to escape for a while and burn off some of the edginess that the seemingly overlong delay was producing.   

Whilst Anya and the two witches had worked on the amber, Buffy and Spike had memorised the words required to activate the amulet. Once they were both decreed adequately proficient, they had pored over the books with Giles and Xander, trying unsuccessfully to find the demon responsible for kidnapping Dawn. 

Giles had explained to them both that the different dimensions they could visit may well be as alike to their own as walking outside the door at that moment, or as different as waking to find themselves in the middle of the Sahara. At his words, Buffy had expressed concern that they could possibly find themselves without shelter from the sun, and as her travelling companion tended to barbeque a little in the sunlight, that was a situation she wanted to avoid at all costs. 

“There must be a spell, like a magical umbrella or something?” she offered weakly, concern creasing her features as she looked at Spike. “Please, Giles, there has to be a way to make sure that Spike is safe from the sun. If only Angel hadn’t destroyed that ring.”  The last was mumbled quietly to herself, and none but preternaturally enhanced ears could have made out her words. Spike had smiled silently to himself, basking in the knowledge that she would even consider allowing him the use of something as powerful as the Gem of Amara, especially seeing as it had once been such a source of contention between them.  Granted, at the time, he had been making use of its power to try to kill her.  

Giles spoke quickly as Buffy drew breath to continue her tirade. “There is no need,” he assured her. “My research shows that Spike will be perfectly safe in the sunlight of any dimension but our own.” 

“Research?” Buffy looked quizzically at her watcher. “You have research on this?” 

Giles gave her a small, discomfited smile. “While you were… what I mean to say…” 

“Giles, it’s okay, you can say it, you know. While I was dead. Yeah, okay… what?” 

“Yes, indeed.  While you were—dead—I found research to be a somewhat welcome distraction.” 

“Okay, I get that.  But why this?  I mean, there are lots of things you _could_ research, so why this particular thing?” She shrugged her shoulders.  “Just seems like an odd thing to be doing research on, you know?” 

“Oh, yes, I see.” Giles’ eyes lit up as he warmed to his topic. “It seems that Angel and his co-workers had occasion to visit an alternate dimension in the weeks before you… passed.  Willow mentioned to me in passing that, while in this dimension, Angel had been unaffected by sunlight.  I found it interesting enough to delve further into the reasons. From what I gather, it has something to do with the molecular structure of the vampire in question, in much the same way that amulet knows the difference between _our _Dawn and any other dimension’s Dawn. The sun from the vampire’s own dimension is, in fact, the only one that will adversely affect it.” 

“So you’re saying I’ll be able to stand in the sun in these other dimensions?” Spike asked tentatively, a wistful look on his face. 

“Yes, that is precisely what I am saying.” Giles frowned as he answered Spike. “That does not, however, mean that any of your other—vulnerabilities—will be removed; a good stake to the heart will still cause you to become dust. I suggest you remember that.” 

“Giles!” Buffy admonished. “What was _that_ all about?!” 

“I don’t trust him, Buffy, and I would feel considerably better about this if you were not taking a renowned killer with you.” 

“Oi!” Spike complained indignantly. “’s been a bloody long time since I have made any sort of move to hurt Buffy, or any of you lot for that matter.” 

“Giles, you know Spike wouldn’t hurt me. He’s been working with you guys all summer. And looking after Dawn. How could you say that?  Besides, would you prefer I went alone? Spike is strong, and we fight well together.” 

Giles gave a long, defeated sigh. “No, I don’t suppose that I would prefer that you go alone. I just... well, I worry.” 

“I know that, but you don’t have to. I know Spike has my back. I’ll be fine,” Buffy assured him. “We’ll be fine,” she added firmly. 

They had spent some time packing a backpack for each of them.  Several stakes and other easily concealed and transportable weapons, as well as food and a change of clothing filled Buffy’s pack; into Spike’s went additional weapons, several bags of blood, and he had thrown in some extra food for Buffy.  After that, it had simply been a matter of trying to be patient until the rituals were completed, ignoring the barely-veiled insults Xander aimed at Spike whenever the opportunity arose, and not allowing themselves to give in to the almost overwhelming fear that gripped them whenever they allowed themselves to dwell on Dawn’s possible fate. 

Finally, the time had come for them to be on their way.


	4. Chapter 4

The world came rushing back to them dizzyingly, causing a vertigo much like that which comes from looking over a steep cliff or down from the roof of a very tall building.  Buffy stumbled slightly as sensation returned; Spike tightened his grip on their linked hands even as he turned to face her, reaching out to steady her with the other. 

Looking around, they quickly recognised their location; they weren’t far from Spike’s crypt in Restfield Cemetery. 

“Well, at least we don’t seem to have gone far,” Spike commented. 

“Great, all that and we end up here.” Buffy looked around them.“Home sweet home.” Her brow creased.“But why would he bring Dawn back to the cemetery?” she mused quietly. 

“Don’t know. My guess is we’ll find that out when we find the Nibblet.” Gazing up at the clear night sky he added, “Stars are different; more like early spring than mid-autumn.” 

Buffy stared sceptically at him. “Okay, see… now, you’re scaring me.”  

Spike laughed. “Knowin’ the position of stars in the sky is just second nature, pet. Guess I’m showing my age, yeah?” he asked, his laughter faded to an uncertain smile. 

It was Buffy’s turn to laugh when she saw his uncertainty. “Yeah, you are. But you know,” she continued, running her eyes appraisingly up and down his body, “you look pretty good for someone who’s, like, ancient,” she teased in an attempt to lighten the mood and put paid her companion’s sudden insecurity. 

“Ancient, am I?” Spike growled. “I’ll show you ancient, little girl.” He lunged for her, fingers wiggling as he threatened to tickle her, and she squeaked and made to run off only to be captured and pinned tightly against a hard, muscular chest. “Looks like I caught myself a slayer,” he purred against her ear. “What should I do with her, I wonder?” His agile fingers worked teasingly across her vulnerable ribs, tickling slightly and threatening further retribution. 

“Don’t. No, Spike, let me go!” Buffy pleaded helplessly. “’kay, you win. You’re not ancient. Now, please, Spike, lemme go!” she begged through her laughter. She may have supernatural strength, and be chosen to save the world from all that is evil, but Buffy was also incredibly, unbearably, debilitatingly ticklish. 

Spike released her, his hands skimming lightly down her waist to her hips as he reluctantly dropped them. The happy smile faded from his lips as he recalled the reason for their current situation. “Right, love. Best we see about trying to find little sis.”   

Buffy sobered instantly, the brief moment of enjoyment quickly brushed aside for more pressing matters. “Yeah, I just... don’t know how. I mean, I kinda figured we’d pop in wherever she was. I guess it’s not going to be that easy, but then again, when is it ever_?_ D’you have any ideas?” she asked hopefully. 

Spike closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, searching for Dawn’s scent on the crisp, cool night air. A faint trace of her, clearly recognisable despite its weakness, tickled his nostrils. “This way,” he said, setting off in the direction in which his keen vampire senses told him his charge lay. 

They set off through the cemetery towards the industrial side of town, with Spike pausing every now and then to test the air and make certain they were still on the right track. 

As they left the grounds by a rarely-used side gate, a slight disturbance in the air—just the faintest hum and a warning prickle along the back of her neck—caught Buffy’s attention; in an instant, she reached out, grabbing Spike and pulling him towards her as the crossbow bolt flew with a sickening whirr through the space his heart had occupied only seconds before. 

The vampire and the slayer quickly adopted fighting stances, covering each other’s backs as their eyes scoured the shadows for their attacker. 

Buffy’s voice came to them from the darkness below the left hand wall. “Don’t move.” The command was barked sharply in a voice slightly rougher and harsher than Buffy’s own. A figure stepped into the moonlight; the woman before them was clearly Buffy Summers, although a much leaner, more muscular version.  This version was certainly missing the more prom queen of Buffy’s tendencies; her hair was tied back tightly, and her face was pinched into what appeared by the deeply etched lines to be a permanent scowl of displeasure. 

“Spike,” she stated, her voice flat, devoid of emotion as she held the crossbow levelled at the vampire’s heart. With one hand she reached into the pocket of her jacket, fishing out a cigarette and placing it in her mouth before reaching once more for the lighter. She took a long, slow draw on the cigarette, releasing her breath in a cloud of smoke as she continued,“Now, I know I dusted you years ago. So, would you like to explain to me how it is that you came to be here, in my town, again? And what’s with the slayer-wannabe vampette?” she sneered as a parting shot.  

“Vampette? Slayer-wannabe?” Buffy glared indignantly at her doppelganger, “Why, you cheap knock-off...” 

“Easy, Slayer,” Spike interrupted, his words directed at _his_ slayer while his eyes never left the other. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a bit of a situation here, pet. An’ somehow I don’t think you’re gonna be helping matters by going off all slayer-on-a-mission. How’s ‘bout we all just take a deep breath, an’ start again, yeah?”  

“You don’t breathe, fang-face.  Remember?” the less-friendly Buffy snapped. 

Taking a long, steadying breath, Buffy conceded that Spike was probably right; there was no point in escalating the situation any further. “Look,” she reasoned with her counterpart, “this isn’t _your_ Spike.  He’s not from here; _we’re_ not from here. We’re from another dimension. This big, ugly, dimension-skipping demon kidnapped Dawn, and we’re just trying to get her back, ‘kay?  So you know, how bout a little less of the John Wayne routine? Just let us get on with the whole rescue thing.” 

“John Wayne used _guns_, pet, not arrows. Now if you’d said Ton…” 

“Spike! So not helping here!” Buffy snapped, cutting him off sharply. 

“’m just saying,” the vampire mumbled sulkily.  

“Okay. That’s enough,” the other slayer growled, raising the crossbow further. “You seriously expect me to buy this dumb and dumber routine?” 

“Okay, I have so had it with you and your insults,” Buffy shot back, grabbing Spike’s arm and, in a furious burst of speed, slinging him into the shadows and out of the crossbow’s deadly sights.  That accomplished, she flung herself sideways as the lethal bolt whistled past; recovering quickly, she threw herself into the fray. 

The first blows were exchanged in a blinding flurry of motion: punch, block, and kick, repeat, mix up the combination and start again.  The two slayers were seemingly evenly matched as they sized each other up, each searching for a weakness, some kind of opening that would give her the advantage over her sister slayer.

Buffy’s came in the form of one mightily pissed-off vampire.  Blue eyes that of late had shone with tenderness or danced with barely suppressed mirth were instead hard and cold as he moved silently and intently, easily closing on the two combatants as they concentrated fully on battling each other. _His_ Buffy landed a kick that had the other slayer spinning, staggering towards him as she attempted to recover from the blow. With all the speed and agility of the deadly predator that he was, he struck. 

“Spike, no! The chip!” Buffy’s warning came too late, leaving her to watch in horror as Spike’s fist connected with her double’s cheek. To both her surprise and his, the anticipated pain didn't eventuate. With a resounding roar, Spike smashed his fist once more into the other slayer’s face, a satisfied smirk firmly in place as her knees buckled and she slumped, unconscious, to the ground. 


	5. Chapter 5

Spike turned, grinning smugly, to face Buffy. “Well, that was…” His words trailed off as he caught the look on her face, her eyes wide and horrified as she looked back and forth between him and the unconscious slayer on the ground. “Buffy? Pet?” He took a step towards her, his extended hand dropping as she took a hesitant half-step backwards; his smile melted, his eyes filling with confusion and hurt before blazing with anger. 

“Right. So that’s how it is, eh? What—do you think I’m gonna rip your bleedin’ throat out now? Is that it?” Pain and anger coloured his tones in equal measure as he glared furiously at the girl before him.  _How could she think he would hurt her?_ 

“Spike. No.” Buffy shook off the sudden fear that had gripped her as she watched William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, take down—well—_her._ “I’m sorry… I know you’re not going to… I just… it was a shock, that’s all.” She stepped quickly forward, closing the distance between them and placing her hand gently on his arm, willing him to accept her apology. “How long has it been?” she asked quietly. 

“How long has what been?” Spike snapped, pulling away from her roughly as he stubbornly refused to understand her question. 

Buffy swallowed hard; she had really hurt him, she knew that, but she wasn’t quite sure how to make things all right between them again. “How long has the chip not been working?” she clarified. 

With an exasperated sigh, Spike squatted next to the fallen slayer; after rifling through her pockets for a few moments, he came up with several stakes—which he cast aside—and a pack of cigarettes.  Lighting one and settling himself more comfortably, he answered, “I don’t know. Didn’t know it _had_ bloody well stopped working. Figured taking out Miss GI Slayer here was worth the headache. I was as surprised as you were that it didn’t go off.” He looked up at _his_ slayer. “I’m not plannin’ on going out on some kinda killing rampage, if that’s what you’re thinkin’.” He paused to take another long drag on the cigarette before continuing quietly. “That’s not me anymore. Thought you knew that,” he added sulkily. 

“I do, Spike.” She sank to the ground beside him, once more placing her hand on his arm and waiting until he looked at her, earnest green eyes capturing and holding his hurt blue ones. “I really do, and I _am_ sorry. It was just… for a moment, I remembered how really scary you can be.” She smiled softly at him, hoping that he would listen to her and that she could muster the words to undo at least some of the harm she had done. 

Buffy watched in amazement as a cocky smile spread across the mercurial vampire’s face, the hurt in his eyes replaced by a twinkling mischievousness. “’m scary!?” he asked with a smirk. 

Buffy rolled her eyes; only Spike would take being called scary as a compliment. “Yes, Spike, you’re scary. And don’t try to pretend you don’t know it!” 

The conversation was interrupted by the stirring of Buffy’s counterpart; the slight movement and the indrawn hiss of breath as the insentient girl began her journey back towards consciousness reminding them that they had a situation requiring their full attention. 

“So, what d’you want to be doin’ with her?” Spike asked, climbing quickly to his feet and offering Buffy a hand. 

“I don’t know.” Buffy took the proffered hand and allowed Spike to help her to her feet, grateful that she had so easily, if somewhat unintentionally, found the right words to ease the pain she had caused. “I just want to find Dawn,” she sighed resignedly. “But I guess if we can somehow convince her to help us, we’d stand a better chance of beating Mr Big Ugly.” 

Spike frowned, not sure that convincing _this_ slayer to help them was going to be all that easy. Stooping, he quickly removed the unconscious slayer’s belt and set to work; rolling her onto her side, he looped the belt around first one wrist and then the other.  Checking that it was firm enough to restrain without constricting the blood flow to her hands, he then threaded the remaining belt through the girl’s rear belt-loops, tying her hands securely to her own pants. “Right then,” he said as he stood and looked at Buffy, “you better give her a good check over for any less obvious weapons.” He turned away, lighting another smoke and surveying the darkness as Buffy carefully checked the other girl for concealed weapons. 

“Okay, done,” Buffy announced, holding up two more stakes and a small knife for Spike’s inspection as he turned once more to face her. 

Spike discarded the half-smoked cigarette and moved to gather the now softly moaning girl in his arms. He carried her over to the wall and settled her gently against the rough brick. Brushing a few stray strands of hair away from her face and tucking them neatly behind her ear, he surveyed the large purple welt marring her cheek and muttered quietly, “’m sorry, love.” 

They didn’t have long to wait for the downed slayer to regain consciousness; once she had, they watched dispassionately as she struggled furiously against her bonds, snarling angrily when she realised that she couldn’t escape. 

“Are you done now?” Buffy asked calmly. The only answer she received was a scathing look of hatred.

With a sigh, Buffy continued, “Look, we didn’t ask for you to go all damage-bound on us, so stop making out like you’re the wronged party here. All I want… all _we_ want,” she clarified, waving her arm to indicate the impatiently glowering vampire, “is a few answers and then, as long as you promise to let us get on with finding Dawn, we’ll let you go and no one is the worse for it, ‘kay?” 

A grudgingly-given terse nod was her only answer; Buffy smiled tightly, exhaustion and worry beginning to take their toll. “First,” she began, some of the pent-up anger and frustration she had been feeling since Dawn’s kidnapping seeping into her voice, “where the hell do you get off attacking us like that? What, you see another you and the first thing you think is _kill_!? No _hey, gee, I wonder what that is all about_? Or _That’s interesting, she looks just like me_. Just… _Kill!_  I mean, _my_ Giles would have a fit if another me showed up and I just straight out killed it—_her_. He’d be all ‘scientific discovery’ this and ‘research possibility’ that. I wouldn’t hear the end of it for weeks.” 

“Giles?” The captive slayer spoke the name quietly, her voice shaking and her face momentarily haunted before the cold, hard shields of bitterness and anger were once again in place. “Giles is dead,” she shot back angrily. 

“Dead?” Buffy’s bottom lip trembled fractionally at the thought of her watcher—her friend, instructor and, more importantly, father figure—being dead. “How?” 

“Does it matter?” The other girl’s face closed off even more as she ground out her bitter response.   

“Where are the Scoobies?” Buffy enquired more gently, changing the subject, trying to somehow break through the angry shields her counterpart had erected. 

“Who?” 

“My friends.  _Your_ friends here, I guess… you know, Willow, Xander…” 

“Oh, them. They’re around, I guess. I run into them sometimes,” she answered dismissively. 

“Oh.” Buffy fell silent; although she hadn’t been able to let go of her hostility towards her friends just yet, she couldn’t imagine her life without them in it.  If she was brutally honest, sometimes they were downright self-centred, but they were always there for her when it really mattered… no matter what. She looked up at yet another of her friends and, swallowing hard, she asked the question that she had been putting off. “And Spike?” 

The other slayer sneered, her eyes narrowing as she was reminded once more of the vampire’s presence. “Dust,” she answered coldly. 

“Yeah, think we got that much earlier, princess,” Spike interjected snarkily. “I think what the Slayer is askin’ you for is a few more details. Isn’t that right, love?” He turned to Buffy, a cocky smile still firmly in place as he placed himself in the line of sight between the two girls. He listened to Buffy’s heart pounding wildly in her chest and silently willed her to regain control of her emotions; the last thing they needed was for this hard-arsed bitch to realise just how much her words were affecting her counterpart. Buffy offered him a tentative smile and a short discreet nod, both indicating her gratitude and acknowledging the reason for his intervention.  

Safe in the knowledge that his slayer was quickly pulling herself together, Spike turned back to the other, far more bitchy version. “A little help from you, an’ we’ll be on our way. You won’t have to be seeing us again. An’ we won’t be having to put up with your delightful company any longer than we have to.” 

“And why would I help you?” the girl on the ground retorted bitterly. 

“Maybe because it’s your job, pet.  You know, sacred calling an’ all that. ‘s not like we’re askin’ you to help us tumble a Red Cross van or rob a soddin’ bank.  We’re talking about rescuing your sister.” 

“Sister? I don’t _have_ a sister.” Allowing her aggression levels to drop from murderous to just plain antagonistic for the first time since encountering the dimension-hopping pair, the downed slayer frowned bemusedly at her counterpart. “You have a sister?” 

“Yeah, I do. And I could do with your help if I’m gonna get her back.”


	6. Chapter 6

They walked in an uneasy silence for a few moments, Spike having taken up a position to the left of _his_ slayer while the other walked sullenly on her right. 

“So,” he began, more to break the tension still clearly in existence between the two slayers than through any particular interest in the answer, “what happened in this world that puts you short one watcher?” 

This world’s slayer glared in disgust at the vampire before answering him with one word spat out furiously, “Angelus.” 

“Angel?” Buffy asked in disbelief. “Angel killed Giles?” At the other girl’s curt nod she continued, “But how? I mean Spike was there, he kept Giles safe and then, later, he helped me stop Angel… I mean… _Angelus_ from destroying the world.” 

Both slayers ignored Spike’s snort as Buffy corrected herself. 

“Spike?” His name was imbued with contempt and disbelief as it dripped from her tongue like poison. “Why would Spike help save a watcher?” The apparently permanently-angry girl looked at her other-world counterpart for a response, ignoring the existence of the vampire in question. 

“Spike and I had an agreement, we were trying to stop Angel,” Buffy closed her eyes momentarily and resisted the urge to correct herself once more, “from destroying the world. Spike kept Giles safe by distracting Angelus until I could get there.” Somehow it didn’t hurt as much as it always had—thinking about the whole Acathla incident and sending Angel to hell was now more of a dull ache of regret than the agonising rift in her heart it had always been. “Your Spike… didn’t?” Buffy asked tentatively. 

“Spike was dust long before then,” the other slayer replied. “He had a whole bunch of kids, losers that worshiped vampires, held hostage. I tricked him; I caught Dru and used her to make him let them go and then I staked her… he went crazy, we fought, he lost. End of story,” she finished defensively when her counterpart looked at her like she had just grown an extra head or something. 

“You staked Dru after saying you’d let her go?” Buffy asked in disbelief, reaching out to place her hand on the arm of the softly growling vampire at her side. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to comfort him, or restrain him—maybe a little of both. 

“She was a vampire, an evil killing machine. I have no need to justify my actions to you… or anyone else for that matter.” 

“Right.” Buffy’s voice hardened. “So where’s your new watcher? Wesley?” 

The other girl stared at her for a moment and then answered waspishly, “I don’t have a new watcher. I’ve had three since Giles, and they’re all dead. Wesley lasted about a week before he got himself killed. After the third useless idiot got himself killed, they stopped sending them.” 

Buffy couldn’t help but feel sorry for this girl—as cold and heartless as she appeared, there was no mistaking the deep underlying hurt that coloured her tone. Was this what she would be without her watcher? Her friends? Was this how her life would have ended up if she hadn’t made that truce with Spike? She shuddered to think how close she had come to this, knowing that even as the other girl’s confession to having killed Dru despite her promise not to had disgusted her, it had done so mostly because the thought had crossed her own mind at the time; they were vampires why should she worry about to keeping her word to a filthy, soulless, murdering creature? She had realised, however, that it mattered because it was _her_ word. That was what was important, its importance wasn’t defined by who she gave it to, but by the giving of it in the first place. That was what made her so different to the creatures she fought every night. Except, maybe not so different, because Spike had always kept _his_ word, hadn’t he? Buffy filed that away to think about some other time. 

The differences in this world compared to her own all seemed to stem from that moment, from something as simple as having removed Spike from the equation. Not that removing Spike was exactly an easy feat, she reflected with a smile.  

“And Angel? Did he get his soul back? Is he here?” Buffy asked suddenly, wondering if this world’s Angel had come back the same way hers had. 

“Yeah, Willow performed her little spell and made him all soul-having again. As if that changes anything, he’s still the same murdering bastard with a soul or without,” she answered, surprised to see Spike eagerly nodding his agreement. 

“But where is he?” Buffy asked. “Did he come back?” 

“He’s somewhere,” she replied evasively. “The powers that be or something like that sent him back here after I went to all the trouble of sending him to hell; where he belonged. As if the world hadn’t already had more than enough of Angelus. Cordelia and him hightailed it out of Sunnydale after I found out she’d been hiding him.” She shrugged, her lip curling into a sneer of disgust. “I hope he killed her, the stupid bitch.” 

“No,” Spike’s anguished cry cut off any response Buffy may have been going to make and she turned to see the vampire casting around in circles, his gameface sliding to the fore as he inhaled deeply. 

“Spike? What’s wrong?” Buffy asked frantically. 

“Scent’s gone,” Spike replied as he continued to search the night air for the familiar scent that had been there only moments before. In a swirl of leather he turned, retracing their steps in an effort to pick up the elusive scent once more. 

“Down here,” he called, golden eyes flashing furiously as he ripped the manhole cover off, quickly shedding the backpack as he prepared to jump down into the inky darkness. “This is where her scent disappears,” he added before dropping from sight. 

The stone, which up to that time had rested sedentary and lifeless against her heart suddenly began to glow, a strange warmth spreading outward from it as it pulsed to life.  

“Spike!” Buffy called urgently to her companion, her hand gripping the stone in an attempt to shield its warm radiating light. “Spike!” She called again more loudly, frantically trying to gain the vampire’s attention. When his head poked back through the sewer entrance she screamed urgently, “Hurry. Oh, god, Spike, I think she’s gone again.” 


	7. Chapter 7

The first thing he noticed as the world came rushing back to them was that it was raining, not the warm, driving California rain, but a fine, cold drizzle. However, before he had the chance to care, the second and more immediately important detail of their new world was brought home to him painfully as an arrowhead suddenly exploded through the front of his chest, emerging just slightly to the right of his heart. With a gasp of pain he hit the ground, dragging the slayer down with him.  

“Spike?” Buffy held him, frantically searching for the cause of his sudden collapse, seconds later she located the arrow and her stomach turned as she took in its proximity to his heart. Another arrow whizzed overhead and Buffy scanned their surroundings looking for their attacker.  

They were in the open near the outer-edge of a clearing, thick woods surrounded the small glade and the remnants of what appeared to be a stone keep nestled on the fringes a short distance away. She couldn’t see who was shooting at them, but from the trajectory of the arrows that continued to fly past them, she could tell that their sniper was situated in the trees on the far side of the clearing. “Spike.” She squeezed his arm as she spoke, drawing his attention and when he turned pain-filled eyes on her she continued, “We need to get to shelter, there’s a castley thing just over there,” she indicated the direction with a nod, ‘do you think you can make it?” 

Spike nodded. “I’ll be right, Slayer. Don’t you worry ‘bout me. I‘m right behind you, pet.” 

“No, Spike, you’re right beside me,” Buffy stated, and as he opened his mouth to protest her decision she continued, “Look, we can stay here and argue about this until _Tonto,_” she raised an eyebrow at him, “over there manages to turn us both into pin cushions or you can do as I say and we _both_ make a run for it. Which is it gonna be, Spike?” 

Spike chuckled, and then groaned in pain as the movement jarred painfully at his wound. “Whatever you say, Slayer.” he agreed affably, knowing there was no point arguing with her when she put her foot down. God had never created a creature more stubborn than his slayer.  

“Good,” Buffy responded, reaching her arm around his waist and grasping his belt. “You ready?” When he nodded his agreement she tightened her grip, helping him to his feet and they took off, dodging missiles as they ran towards the relative safety of the dilapidated keep. 

Having safely made their way inside the keep Spike took the lead, pulling the slayer in his wake as he made his way to the narrow vertical slits in the building’s stonework. 

A small, dark haired boy cautiously entered the clearing, a longbow almost as large as himself drawn and at the ready as he crept slowly closer to the abandoned keep. A man emerged from the shadows to the left of their location, calling out in some strange language and Buffy frowned wondering how they could have come from a world so similar to their own to suddenly find themselves in some kind of weird King Arthur meets Geronimo world.  

Spike’s pained snort of laughter drew her attention away from the small slit ‘window’. “What’s so funny?” she asked.  

“I’m thinking that’s as justified as you can get,” he replied sardonically, indicating the arrow still protruding from his body. 

“Oh? And why’s that?” Buffy enquired as she bent to examine his chest, her fingers probing gently. 

“He just told his old man that he shot an ‘English devil’, guess the boy couldn’t have been more right if he tried,” Spike answered. 

“You understood him?” Buffy stopped what she was doing to stare incredulously at the vampire. 

“Bits of it. Had a Welsh housekeeper when I was a lad. I picked up a little; course this is a lot older, but for the most part I can work it out.” Spike frowned slightly as he listened, straining his ears to pick up the thread of conversation between the boy and his father. 

“Older? How so?” Buffy asked continuing her examination of the arrow. 

“As in several hundred years before my time.” Spike raised his hand, signalling for quiet as he took advantage of his preternatural hearing to eavesdrop on their attackers. 

“Seems we’ve landed ourselves right in the middle of a war, pet.” Buffy’s questing fingers halted once more, her eyes widening at his announcement and he continued, “It appears we've landed inside Welsh territory, Gwynedd if I’m not mistaken.” 

“As in Paltrow?” Buffy asked with a frown. 

“No, Slayer. That’s Gwenyth, this is Gwynedd,” he pronounced the two words slowly, “as in a Welsh principality. Llewellyn the Great? At war with England?” he continued hopefully, then shook his head at her continued blank looks. “Do they teach you _anything_ in school?”

“Anyway,” he continued, ignoring her glare, “we aren’t the only ‘devils’ to have come this way, the old man chased a swarm of them, or so he claims, a league or so west of here. My guess is that’s our girl and the piece of slime that’s taken her, so at least we know which way we’re heading when we get out of here.” 

“And how are you planning on us getting out of here, mister-know-it-all?” she asked, ignoring the yell and string of curses that fell from his mouth as she snapped the arrow shaft unexpectedly. Buffy was pleased at the information he had garnered but was still smarting from his comment about her education, or lack thereof, and having established for herself that he was in no danger of dusting, she allowed herself to take a moment’s pleasure from his discomfort. 

She reached for the arrowhead in order to draw the arrow out, only to have her hands slapped away.

“I’ll do it myself,” Spike snapped just as the amulet around Buffy’s neck began to emit the strange warm glow once more. “Shit,” Spike swore, dropping his hand from the arrow to twine firmly with Buffy’s as once again they spoke the words together. 

***** 

“B?” A too familiar voice asked, hesitantly. 

Buffy’s head snapped around her shock-widened eyes focusing intently on the girl in front of her. 


	8. Chapter 8

Buffy stepped quickly between the injured vampire and the dark-haired slayer. “Stay away from him,” she growled, making no attempt to disguise her distrust of the other girl. 

Faith raised her hands, grinning as she spoke. “Easy, B. Don’t know what your deal is, but I’m not after your honey. Was just gonna help, okay?” 

“No, it’s not okay. We don’t need your help,” Buffy all but snarled at her fellow slayer as she wrapped her arm protectively around the injured vampire’s waist. “And what are you doing walking around free, anyway? Last I heard you were locked away where you belong.” Allowing herself a quick glance at her surroundings, Buffy recognised the lobby of Angel’s hotel in L.A. “Where’s Angel?” she asked suspiciously. 

“Dead,” Faith snapped. “Just like you’re supposed to be.” With a sigh, the brunette relented. “Look, why don’t you get down off your high horse for a while so we can work out what the hell is going on here? 'Cause the last time I saw you was in the Hellmouth, dying from a sword through your gut just before Angel started his little light display and everything went to hell.” 

“Hellmouth? What…” Buffy’s voice trailed off for a moment before she looked her sister slayer in the eye. “Dying?” she asked, her voice betraying her with only the faintest hint of a tremor.   

“Ladies, I hate to interrupt the happy reunion, but do you mind if we take this somewhere else? Say somewhere with a nice comfy couch?” The slight tic of his jaw and the barely-detectable tension in his voice were the only indication, to any who knew him well, of just how much pain the vampire was in.  

“Oh god, Spike. I’m sorry,” Buffy apologised, horrified at having forgotten his current predicament. Tightening her grip on his waist, she led him to a nearby couch and watched in concern as he lowered himself carefully to the seat. 

“Spike?” Faith queried. “_This_ is William the Bloody?” 

“Faith, are you…” The voice faltered as its owner descended the stairs to the lobby. “Buffy? How?” 

“We were just about to get to that part,” Faith informed her former watcher as she reached surreptitiously for a stake. She turned her attention once more to the new arrivals. “So, B, wanna explain how it is that you’re walking around in the land of the living, and rubbing shoulders with the so called Slayer of Slayers to boot?”   

“We’re not from here,” Buffy answered, her attention on the arrow still jutting from Spike’s chest. “We’re from another dimension.  This demon kidnapped Dawn, and we’re trying to find her.” She broke off her study of the wounded vampire for a moment and caught the other slayer’s eye. “You do know who Dawn is, right?”  

“You’re from another world?” Faith asked in disbelief. 

“Actually, there are many theories involving parallel universes; it’s all quite fascinating, really. I remember reading a particular theory…”   

“Whoa.  Easy there, Watcher-boy; you’re drooling, you know?” 

“What? I’m…” Wesley joined them, glancing down quickly before offering Faith a tight, wry smile. “Yes, very funny. You, my dear, will keep.” 

Turning his attention to their visitors, the watcher studied them carefully for a few moments, noting the surprising lack of aggression from the injured vampire and the slayer’s obvious concern for his welfare. “So a demon kidnapped your sister? And you’re… tracking them somehow?” 

“’s right,” Spike answered. “Snatched the Bit from right under our bloody noses,” he added dejectedly. “Harris’ bird and the witches came up with this amulet, traces Dawn’s signature or something. Bloody thing’s been dragging us from one world to the next without so much as a glimpse of the Nibblet. Talking of …” He inhaled deeply, his eyes closing in concentration as he searched for a trace of the missing teen. “Nothing. She hasn’t been through here or, from what I can tell, even been close.  So why the bleedin’ hell is it bringing us here?” he growled.  

“We’ll find her, Spike,” Buffy assured the frustrated vampire, one hand coming to rest gently on his chest as she looked deeply into his eyes. “She’ll be all right.” 

Spike sighed and nodded slowly. “You’re right. There has to be some reason we were brought here. Nibblet can’t be too far…  Bloody hell!” he roared, surging to his feet and fixing the slayer furiously with angry golden eyes. 

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Buffy chided him, unmindful of the vampire’s fury as she tossed the blood-coated arrow aside and pushed him firmly back onto the recently vacated couch. “It had to come out, and this way you weren’t all tensed up. Now sit down and let me look at it.”

Spike's eyes faded from gold to blue but he continued to glare at the slayer. Buffy ignored both the dark looks and muttered curses, and set about to carefully examine the wound; there was some small amount of bleeding from where she had removed the arrow, but that was slowing quickly as his vampire healing kicked in. The wound itself was fairly clean, all things considered, but the flesh and muscle were pretty torn up from all the moving around they’d had to do. “You need blood,” she stated, looking around for his pack. “Where’s your gear, Spike?” 

Forgetting that he was still meant to be angry, he shrugged and looked around hopefully, as if he could summon it from the ether by searching hard enough. “Don’t rightly know. Tryin’ to think when I last had it.” 

“I don’t remember you having it in Wales,” Buffy offered. 

“No.” He shook his head. “Me either, pet. Musta dropped it back with your not-so-pleasant self.” 

“Okay, time out,” Faith announced, glancing quickly at Wesley.  Exchanging a faint smile and the barest hint of a nod, they reached a silent agreement.  Having recovered from the rather unusual sight of the furious master vampire and the supposed-to-be-dead slayer facing off in their hotel lobby, they had each concluded that this particular Slayer of Slayers posed no immediate threat and that he and the slayer before them could use whatever assistance they were able to offer.  “How bout we all sit down?  Wes can get you the first aid kit, and you guys can start again from the beginning.” 

Buffy nodded and, wrapping her arm around Spike once more, helped the protesting vampire as they followed their hosts into what appeared to be their living area. “I’m not a bloody invalid, Slayer,” Spike growled in protest, even as he relished the feeling of the warm, strong little arm banded protectively around his waist.  

“I know you’re not,” she agreed, all too pleasantly, yet refused to loosen her hold or withdraw her support. 

After settling themselves around the large dining table, Buffy set to work cleaning and dressing Spike’s wound, ignoring the vampire’s grumbling protests. As Buffy worked on her reluctant patient, she and Spike filled Faith and Wesley in on both recent and not-quite-so-recent events.


	9. Chapter 9

“Well I must say, I am quite fascinated by this amulet. May I?” Wesley looked hopefully at Buffy. 

“Ah, yeah, sure. But if it starts to get warm or anything…” 

“Of course,” Wesley agreed, reaching eagerly for the proffered amulet. “Remarkable.” 

“So…  Dead, huh?” Buffy’s gaze flicked from the now-absorbed watcher to the dark-haired slayer. Faith lolled comfortably in the chair, her legs draped across the arm and her feet propped on the table, the picture of casual ease. “What happened? How…?” 

“You know, the usual.  Apocalypse,” Faith responded with feigned nonchalance. 

“Faith!” Wesley reprimanded, looking up from his study of the amulet; his eyes darted quickly from one slayer to the other. Handing the Iemlenu amulet back to its owner, he spoke gently, apologising for Faith’s apparent insensitivity. “I’m sorry, Buffy. It’s just that... well, we all lost people—friends—that day, and talking about it isn’t easy.”  

He looked over at the very tired-looking girl and the vampire who was, at this point, paler than even a creature of the night should be. “You’re both tired; why don’t you get some rest, and…” 

“No,” the dimension travellers responded in unison. 

“We have to find Dawn,” Buffy added. 

“I appreciate that; however, I don’t see that you falling down from exhaustion is going to be of any help to your sister. And if you do manage to locate her, neither you nor your companion are going to be of much assistance in your present condition. You both need sleep, and the vampire has lost a considerable amount of blood and needs time to heal.” 

“He could also use some blood,” Buffy said hopefully. “If we hadn’t lost that pack… Well, not much we can do about that now, but I don’t suppose there’s any blood left here… from Angel, I mean?” 

Wesley’s eyes flew briefly to the brunette at his side before fixing once more on the blonde slayer, sadness reflected obviously in their depths. “I’m afraid not.  The battle was over eight months ago, so... Well, we had to clear a lot of things out.” 

“What happened?” Buffy asked quietly.  

“The First Evil. It seems it hadn’t quite finished with Angel, or with you. We came in only in the final days, so I don’t know all the details, but it seems the First had been systematically murdering potential slayers and their watchers. At the same time you, or the other you—it all gets a little confusing there, doesn’t it?” he pondered aloud.  

“Anyway, it seems both you and Angel were being tormented by dreams. I’m not entirely certain as to their nature; I only know that Angel said that his involved his past victims.  Additionally, the Council of Watchers was destroyed, taking with it most of the watchers and their library.” Regret played across his features, and Buffy wondered if he mourned more for the loss of the watchers or for the hundreds of years’ accumulation of books. 

“I received news that my father had been killed, and from there we discovered what was happening in Sunnydale. We—Angel Investigations—joined you in the final battle inside the Hellmouth. Angel had acquired an amulet from one of his sources; we were unable to determine its exact purpose, but were assured that it would be of great benefit in defeating the First once and for all. It had to be worn by someone with a soul, but of superhuman strength. Angel wore the amulet; you, Faith, and the young witches—Willow and Tara,” he offered hesitantly hoping he was remembering the girls’ names correctly, “led the potentials into the Hellmouth, while the rest of us held the fort above ground. The plan worked; the First, the Hellmouth and Sunnydale were all destroyed. However, Angel, yourself, most of the AI team, young Xander, and many of the Potentials were killed in the process; the rest of us barely made it out alive.” 

Wesley reached over and gently pried Faith’s fingers from the chair arm she had been holding in a death-grip, entwining them in his and running his thumb in soothing patterns across the back of her hand. She smiled briefly, acknowledging the comfort offered and her appreciation. 

When he was certain that his slayer had her emotions once more under control, he continued. “Dawn and the witches are in London now with Mr Giles; they are attempting to piece the Council back together. Anyanka accompanied them as far as England, but apparently with her husband’s death she lost all interest in assisting in any way, and is now running a small retail venue in York. As the Cleveland Hellmouth is all but inactive, Faith and I came back here to continue Angel Investigations’ work in Los Angeles. Fred went back home to Texas after Gunn’s death. Cordelia took a horrific blow to the head as we were evacuating, and is still in a coma; no one can say if or when she will ever awaken.” 

“So there’s just the two of you here?” Buffy asked, her mind reeling with questions as she tried to digest the information Wesley had already supplied. 

“Permanently, yes. We do have an associate who assists us from time to time, although generally more in the research department than with the actual physical side of things. Lorne is an empath demon, and where he is more than capable of assisting us in our investigations, he is rather lacking in combat skills. Of course, we maintain close communication with Mr Giles and the new Council, and can count on their assistance should we ever require it. And as Faith is the active slayer, the arrangement is, of course, reciprocated.” 

“Okay, we done with the little Q &amp; A session for now? B, you and Blondie look like you’re dead on your feet. Get some sleep; we’ll pick up some blood for fang-face there as soon as the butcher opens, and Wes can get on the horn to Giles and Co. to see if they have any ideas on how to find your missing sis.  But like Wes says, you’re no use to anyone the way you are now; I think even _he_ could take you both out without raising a sweat.” Faith smirked unrepentantly at Wesley before turning back to the exhausted travellers. “No arguments. I’m sure we’ve got a couple of rooms—or is that room?” she asked with a grin and a delicately arched eyebrow. 

“Rooms—definitely rooms,” Buffy sputtered, barely managing to restrain herself from elbowing the highly amused vampire who was happily snorting at her discomfort.


	10. Chapter 10

Their hosts showed them to two modest but comfortable adjoining rooms, each with their own bathroom, Queen-sized bed, a small dresser, and a bedside table upon which rested identical beige lamps. Buffy was relieved to know that Spike was close in case the amulet activated again; at least she wouldn't have to go running around the hotel searching for him.

"Ah... if the amulet, you know, if we have to..." Her words were cut off by a huge yawn and after an apologetic shrug she tried again, "If we just kinda disappear..."

"We'll try not to take it personally," Wesley assured her.

The gleam in his eyes and Faith's snort of amusement were the only indication that the watcher was anything other than as serious as he both sounded and appeared, and Buffy opened her mouth to assure him that it would most definitely not be a reflection on their hospitality. Snapping her mouth shut when she realised that she was being teased, Buffy made a mental note to give _this_ Wesley more credit than the one she had known in her own world.

"We'll be downstairs when you wake up," Faith told the weary pair. "I'll head down the butcher's and get some blood for Spike, and Wes can start with the research thing. He loves that, you know. I swear if he had to choose between me and those musty old books..."

"Yes, well some of those musty old books are extraordinarily rare—priceless in fact..." Wesley began, his poker-face breaking into an amused smirk at the affronted look on his slayer's face. "But none of them are as priceless as you, my dear," he assured her, moving to take her in his arms and laughing as she batted ineffectually at his chest. "Come on," he said, dropping a quick kiss to the top of Faith's head. "We should let our guests get some sleep. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," he told their interdimensional visitors, before slipping his arm around Faith's shoulders and heading back the way they'd come.

A loud slap, Wesley's grunt of pain and Faith's rich laughter echoed back along the hall. Spike smiled in amusement and catching _his_ slayer's eyes he mumbled, "Interesting couple."

"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "Nothing like the Faith and Wesley I know, that's for sure," she observed.

*****

She'd said goodnight to Spike and closed the adjoining door before turning to look longingly at both the bed and the bathroom. Finally she'd decided that a hot shower would not only make her feel considerably less grungy, it would also help her sleep. Now, showered, changed into clean, comfortable clothes and relaxed—or as relaxed as she could be knowing that her sister was out there somewhere in the clutches of god-only-knows what kind of monster—she snuggled down into the bed, pulled the covers up so they were tucked warmly just beneath her chin, and allowed the exhaustion she had been fighting for what seemed like weeks to claim her.

*****

Spike stared at the ceiling, the once-white paint was now yellowish with age, it was chipped and flaked in places and in others tiny cracks feathered their way across the surface.

He'd showered, paced around his room for a bit as he dried off, opened drawers and poked about at the meagre contents, burnt his fingers on the complimentary bible stashed away beneath a pile of out of date fast food leaflets, sworn furiously to himself and slammed the drawer closed before dropping his towel in a damp heap on the carpet near the bathroom door and, after dragging his jeans back on over almost-dry legs, he'd finally climbed onto the bed to sleep. Only sleep hadn't come. Now he was tired, hungry, bored out of his brain, and severely pissed that no matter how much he might want to be asleep his brain just wouldn't shut down enough to allow him that luxury.

He was seriously contemplating giving up and going back downstairs to help the watcher with his research and see if the girl had returned with the promised blood, when Buffy's cry had him leaping out of bed and through the door into her room. She was siting up in bed, her face as pale as a ghost's, her hands trembling and her heart pounding as she panted for breath. He scanned the room quickly looking for sign of invaders, after finding nothing out of order he turned his attention back to the obviously distraught girl.

"Slayer?" He made his way cautiously towards the bed. "You 'right, Buffy?"

"Spike, I... I'm sorry," she mumbled, sniffing slightly before lifting pain-filled eyes to meet his. "I didn't mean to wake you..."

"Didn't wake me." He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching over to brush the wild tangle of hair back from her face. "Nightmare?" he asked quietly. He knew she had them, had heard her tossing and turning up in her bed at night as he'd kept guard over the Summers household from the tree beneath her window.

She nodded, smiling weakly at him and leaning momentarily into the comfort of his caress. "I'm okay," she assured him quietly, before continuing on more strongly, "They're just dreams. Nothing more."

He watched her for a few moments, searching her face before nodding. "'kay, love. If you're alright I'll let you get back to sleep then."

As he made to get up Buffy's hand closed gently around his arm. "Would you... I mean it's a big bed... do you mind... staying?" she asked hesitantly. "You never know we might have to leave in a hurry, and it would be easier if you were, you know... here," she finished, meeting his eyes shyly.

"Yeah, does make a hell of a lot more sense," he agreed. "Wouldn't want to waste time if the Bit moves on again. Every second counts, afterall." He climbed slowly into the bed and settled down near the edge, careful to give Buffy plenty of room and not encroach on her no matter how much he longed to gather her close to him.

Warm, gentle fingers traced across his chest.

"It's healing," she commented quietly.

"Yeah. Bit of kip and I'll be right as rain," he assured her as he settled back against the pillows. "Night, pet," he murmured as she settled down on the far side of the bed.

"Night, Spike," Buffy replied sleepily as she turned out the light. "Thank you."

"Shh. Go to sleep." Spike closed his eyes, breathing in the warm fragrance of his slayer and listening to her slow, even breathing as she drifted once more to sleep. He was just drifting off himself when his eyes flew open; Buffy had rolled in her sleep, her head coming to rest on his chest, with her hand sandwiched between her cheek and his chest. Her sweatpant-encased leg followed suit, coming to rest on his as she snuggled into his side, mumbling incoherently before settling back into a deep, restful sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

"Sleep well?" Faith asked as Buffy entered the living room.

Buffy hesitated, looking from the smirking Faith near the doorway to where Wesley sat on the couch with several large stacks of books balanced around him as he pored over the one in his lap. "I... uh... " she stammered, a hot blush rising to colour her cheeks.

"Chill, B. I'm just giving you a hard time. What you and fang-boy do is your business."

"It's not like that," Buffy protested. “We're friends."

"Right." The dark-haired slayer drew the word out and nodded slowly, her eyes sparkling.

"We... he... I had a nightmare," Buffy finished quietly.

"Faith, if you're quite done tormenting Buffy, I'd like to ask her a few questions about this demon." Wesley looked up from his research and smiled gently at the smaller slayer. "Going on the description you gave, I've been able to narrow it down to a few possibilities." He quickly moved a pile of precariously balanced books from the seat next to him and indicated for Buffy to sit down.

He waited until Buffy was settled before reaching for a large ancient-looking tome he had set aside earlier and opening at the bookmarked page. “Does this look like the demon that kidnapped your sister?” he asked.

Faith moved to stand behind the couch, peering at the book over Buffy and Wesley’s shoulders.

Buffy shook her head. “No. It was bigger, you know... thicker set. And not all bent over like that.”

“How about this one?” Wesley carefully set aside the first volume before replacing it with a newer, less fragile-looking but equally large one.

_‘Maybe it’s some kinda pre-requisite that demon-y books have to be big,’_ Buffy mused before returning her attention to the page Wesley was pointing to, and once again shaking her head in the negative.

Half an hour or so later a dejected watcher and slayer sighed in unison as Wesley set aside yet another book.

“That’s the last of my suspects,” he informed her quietly, reaching for another book despite his words. “I bookmarked this next one because it does fit your description; however, the P’Lontus demon is a non-aggressive species that prefers to avoid human contact.” He opened the book to the page and was startled by Buffy’s jubilant shout.

“That’s it,” Buffy repeated emphatically when the watcher continued to look at her with disbelief.

“I’ve never heard of a P’Lontus interfering with humans before. They are, as I said, a non-aggressive species. They are often referred to as the Pilot demon because of their ability to ferry others through dimensions, and rumour has it, through time.

“So, why would this Pilot demon want my sister?” Buffy’s brows knit together as she searched for possible reasons. “You don’t think... he wouldn’t be taking her back through time to Glory, would he?” she asked, jumping to her feet. Her voice rose rapidly in pitch and volume as panic seized her.

“I can’t imagine why,” the watcher soothed. “There would certainly be no benefit in it for him. In fact there would be considerable loss of income for the P’Lontus as a race if the doors between dimensions were to be opened. I’ll do some more research; see if I can fathom why your sister may have been taken, and what we can do to rescue her. In the meantime I suggest you try to relax, and get as much rest as possible. You’ll be of no use to your sister, or anyone for that matter, in the exhausted state you were in upon your arrival.”

He turned to face the dark-haired slayer. “Faith, would you mind showing Buffy to the kitchen? I’m sure she must be hungry, and I really need to get back to my books, time being somewhat of the essence. He smiled warmly at his lover to soften the dismissal and she nodded briefly in reply.

“This way, B. It’s best to leave him alone when he’s in watcher-mode... he gets all stuffy, and that’s never a pretty sight.” She reached out, placing her hand on the other girl’s back and ushering the reluctant slayer from the room. “Trust me. You don’t want to be here.” In a mock-whisper she added, “And he’ll work a lot better if we leave him alone.” At Buffy’s continued reluctance she continued, “Seriously, B, he’s good at this stuff. Give the man some quiet and let him do his job.”

~*~

“So what’s the deal with you and Blondie?” Faith asked around a mouthful of pop tart.

“I told you, we’re friends.”

“Yeah, heard that speech the first time, still not sure I’m buyin’ it.” Faith grinned unrepentantly as Buffy’s cheeks coloured. “What I mean, though, is even if I was buying the whole ‘we’re friends’ deal... How? How the hell do you get to be friends with William the Bloody?”

She pushed her chair back and instead hopped up onto the wooden table, one booted foot resting on the seat of the recently vacated chair, the other leg swinging freely as she studied her fellow slayer carefully before continuing. “In this world he’s a vicious killer. He’s murdered two slayers, tried to kill you, too, from what I hear. No idea where him and his crazy girlfriend are hanging these days, but I know they showed up in LA a few years back; caused a whole mess of trouble for Angel before they took off again.”

“The Gem of Amara,” Buffy mumbled.

“Huh?”

“Oh, this gem... it makes vampires invincible. Spike found it. I took it off him and sent it to Angel. Spike tried to get it back. I don’t know the details but Angel ended up destroying it. But that was before the chip.” Buffy took a nibble at her pop tart before washing it down with a large swig of juice.

She frowned slightly, trying to put her thoughts in order before continuing. “Spike’s... well, Spike’s complicated. First we were enemies, then he just used to piss me off, then he started being useful but still annoying and somewhere along the way we became friends. Don’t ask me how, ‘cause I’ve got no idea. That doesn’t mean he can’t still be annoying,” she added. “But it’s okay; like when Xander’s annoying, or Anya... well, less like Anya ‘cause I never really get her. Anyway, this last year Spike has really been there for me, you know? He looked after my mom and Dawn, helped me after Mom died. He did so much more than I would ever have imagined. He risked his life trying to keep Dawn safe, and then after I... Well, let’s just say he took care of Dawn and the others for me while I couldn’t be there.”

The sound of booted feet making their way up the corridor interrupted them and Buffy fell silent, turning to face the new arrival.

“Ladies,” Spike greeted them from the doorway. “Watcher said I’d find you in here.  Shoulda woken me, pet,” he told Buffy as he entered the room. The colour rose in Buffy’s cheeks and he smiled shyly before turning hopeful eyes on the other slayer. “Don’t s’pose you got a chance to get...”

“In the fridge,” Faith answered, cutting him off.

“Thanks, love. ‘Preciate it.” He opened the fridge and took the bag of blood out, one eyebrow quirking at the brunette when he pulled out a Red Cross bag instead of the expected pig’s blood.

“Cups are over there.” Faith indicated, ignoring his unspoken question. “Use the chipped brown one, and make sure you clean it after you're done,” she added.

The two slayers fell silent. Buffy went back to munching on her breakfast while Faith continued to sit on the table digesting everything she had learned about her unusual houseguests.

Spike poured the blood into the mug and threw the empty packet in the bin before turning to place his breakfast in the microwave. He froze, empty hand outstretched towards the microwave.

“Spike?” Buffy asked tentatively when the vampire remained unmoving for a few moments. “Is something wrong?”

She got up and made her way over to the immobile vampire. As she moved around him she looked up at his face and noticed that his eyes were filled with wonder and he was staring transfixed at his outstretched hand. “Spike?” She looked once more from his face to his hand before breathing in sharply. With a smile she reached out, gently covering his hand for a moment before sliding hers under and clasping it. “How long has it been?” she asked quietly.

Spike pulled himself from his trance with an effort. “Hundred and twenty years, give or take. Not countin’ that time with the gem... didn’t really take the time to smell the roses then. Was more interested in killing you.” He smiled apologetically and she shook her head, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Just friends. Yeah, right,” Faith muttered to herself.


	12. Chapter 12

“How does it feel?” Buffy asked. “Anything like you remembered?”

Spike shook his head slowly, dragging his attention away from his light-bathed hand to meet Buffy’s gaze. “It’s warm,” he whispered, losing himself in her eyes. “Don’t remember it being this warm.” He smiled, and then barked a short snort of amusement before continuing, “Don’t s’pose it was, really. English sun’s not renowned for being all that warm, an’ ‘s not like I spent a lot of time in it—wasn’t the done thing back then.”

He dropped his gaze once more, watching their linked hands with fascination as Buffy’s thumb gently stroked the back of his hand, and suddenly he was no longer sure which was the greater miracle; the sun’s warmth seeping into his flesh for the first time in over a century, or his beautiful slayer holding his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.

His stomach growled loudly, recalling them both to the task at hand.

Buffy stepped back, her eyes widening in horror as she realised what sort of show they’d just been putting on. She dropped his hand self-consciously, and backed away as she spoke. “You should eat. And we need to stock up—replace what was in your pack.”

She hurried back to the table and busied herself by tearing the remainder of her pop tart to pieces and studying them—anything to avoid having to look at Spike. She didn’t understand what had just happened. She’d been as amazed as he was by the sight; the sun glistening patterns of dappled gold on his pale skin. Then somehow she was holding his hand and drowning in those eyes, and feeling things that she knew she had no right feeling while her sister’s life was in danger.

Spike watched in disbelief, trying to make sense of what had just happened. One moment she’d been holding his hand, and the next she was fleeing like a startled rabbit; putting as much distance between them as was possible within the confines of the kitchen. He’d thought things between them were getting better. Since she’d been brought back she’d been spending more and more time either alone with him, or with him and the Nibblet; and a lot less time with her Scooby mates. And after last night, and then again just now... Well, he’d thought that just maybe she was starting to return his feelings.

Disappointment, bewilderment and hurt warred with anger for pride of place and he nodded curtly in response. Placing the mug in the microwave, he closed the door a little too firmly before making a show of studying the controls as he struggled to rein in his emotions.

“So, Watcher said you’d made some progress,” he offered eventually, retrieving his breakfast and leaning casually back against the counter to sip at it.

Buffy swallowed the last of her now-cold breakfast. “Yeah,” she croaked, clearing her throat before continuing. “He found the demon. Not the actual demon,” she added hastily at Spike’s reaction to her words. The vampire relaxed once more and she continued, “It’s a Pilot demon. But Wesley says they aren’t usually dangerous.”

“They’re not,” Spike confirmed, shaking his head.

“You know about them?” Buffy asked sharply, her eyes narrowing as she wondered why he hadn’t spoken up before now.

“Know _of_ them, pet,” he replied, bristling a little at her accusatory tone. “Never seen one before. They’re not really the mixing type; tend to stick to their own kind. For the right price they’ll take you anywhere, or so I’ve heard. Also known to be big dealers in antiquities. Nearly resorted to seeking them out when I was looking for that bloody book of Du Lac’s; ‘til I found out your watcher had it tucked away nice and not-so-safe in the school library, that is.” He grinned at the memory, and then shrugged nonchalantly when he was met with Buffy’s icy stare. “Anyway, point is, I’ve never heard of ‘em being involved in anything dodgy. They keep their noses clean and stay under the radar. So why the hell would one be risking exposure by kidnapping the slayer’s kid sis?”

“Dunno. That’s what Wesley’s trying to figure out.”

“So while he’s sussing that out, we’re supposed to do what? Sit around twiddling our thumbs?” Spike asked crankily, not making any effort to keep the sarcasm from his voice. Draining the remaining contents of his mug in one gulp, he turned away to wash it out.  “Must be something we can do about finding the Bit. We know she’s in this dimension, or that fancy little bauble of yours wouldn’t have brought us here.”

“I don’t know," Buffy snapped back. "I don't know how to find her, why she was taken, or what to do,” she added, slamming her hand down on the table and causing the crockery to rattle as she jumped to her feet once more. “You think if I had any idea where to start looking I would still be sitting here?”

“Whoa, B. Take it easy on the furniture, huh? Look, you’re both pretty strung out, I get that, but why don’t you just try and take it easy for a while. Wes will work something out; it’s what he does. In the meantime, you wanna start duking it out? Fine. Might even enjoy the show,” she added with a smirk, “But take it outside. Or I’m gonna have to kick both your asses.” Faith looked sternly at each in turn. The vampire dropped his head quickly, mumbling an incoherent apology.

Buffy met the other slayer’s gaze for a fraction longer before she too deflated, offering a watery smile and sighing deeply. “I’m sorry. I guess we’re both just feeling a little helpless,” Buffy offered, looking to Spike for support. When the vampire just continued studying his boots she added, “It won’t happen again. And how bizarre is it that I’m the one having to apologise to you for behaving badly?” she joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Morning, cupcake. Is the man at home?” An overly chipper voice sung out from the doorway.

Buffy turned around, watching in amazement as Faith jumped up to hug the brightly clad green demon who was somehow managing to pull off what she was certain was one of the biggest fashion faux pas of all time._ 'At least the suit matches his horns,'_ she thought as she tried not to stare too obviously.

“Who are your new friends?” he asked, smiling widely at the newcomers.  


	13. Chapter 13

Buffy frowned as she looked around the room. "Where's Spike?" she asked, brushing her still-damp hair out of her face.   
"Dunno." Faith shook her head, glancing around quickly. "Ever considered a bell? Maybe a nice studded collar?" She laughed when Buffy's eyes goggled as she took the bait. "You really need to learn to lighten up, B," she tossed over her shoulder as, with a swish of her hips, she headed over to where Wesley and Lorne were in conference.

After the initial drama of the introductions was over—Buffy had a feeling that everything the anagogic demon did was accompanied by a certain amount of drama—Lorne had announced that he needed to talk to Wesley, and the two of them had been whispering on the couch ever since. Faith had left to run some errands and, at a loss for anything else to do, Buffy had taken herself off to enjoy a long hot bath.

With a last glance at the three now happily chatting away on the couch, Buffy turned and made her way through the hotel and out the back door into the little courtyard. "I thought I might find you out here," she said quietly when Spike pushed off from the wall, dropping the cigarette butt and grinding it beneath his boot heel.

"Yeah, was a little too 'old boys' club' in there for me. 'sides," he added with a shrug and a quick glance up at the sky, "figured I may as well enjoy a bit o' sun while I can."

A small faux-sandstone table and matching benches stood in one corner of the little courtyard, under the dubious shade of a none-too-healthy potted Ficus; Buffy brushed at the dried leaves and dust gathered on the closest bench before settling precariously on the edge, hugging herself against the cold despite the warm spring day.

"Spike?" She looked up from where she'd been studying the lines feathering the pavers beneath her feet to meet the his inscrutable gaze and huffed out a tired sigh. "About earlier..."

"Drop it, Slayer."

"I just..."

"Said drop it. Doesn't matter."

"It does to me," Buffy said, dropping her gaze back to the cracked ground. "I don't like you being mad at me." Quelling the urge to get up and run, she swallowed hard and blundered on before she could change her mind. "And I don't like hurting you, which I'm pretty sure I did, even if I'm not completely sure how."

She waited for him to say something, and when he didn't she risked a glance up, to be met by the vampire's unblinking gaze as he waited for her to continue.

"I... I mean, I was... You were... With the hand-holding..." Once again she found herself engrossed in the imperfections in the pavers. "It was nice. And last night... Also good, I mean nice. But..." She drew a shuddering breath. "Scary. Okay? Everything seems to be happening so fast, and I just don't know what any of it means. And when you were shot and I thought you were going to die... And there's Dawn... And..."

"Buffy."

"It's all really scary," she continued unhearing. "And fast and...did I mention scary? And confusing, and..."

"Buffy!"

"Huh?" She blinked, meeting his gaze once more and frowning when he started chuckling.

"Anyone ever told you that you're adorable when you babble?" Spike asked.

Buffy opened her mouth to declare that she didn't 'babble' then snapped it closed again loudly before joining in the laughter. "I guess I was babbling a bit, huh?" she said eventually.

"There you are," Faith said from the doorway. "We've got pizza, or blood. Pick your poison. And Lorne's setting up the karaoke."

"Karaoke?" Spike mouthed.

Buffy laughed at the horrified look on the vampire's face. "They don't have cable?" she suggested with a shrug. "Are we good?" she asked quietly as Faith headed back into the hotel. "You're not mad at me anymore?"

"We're good, Buffy. But--and I'm not tryin' to push or to rush anything here—we do need to talk. You know how I feel... And I know that getting Dawn back is our priority; but, we get the chance for a little quiet time, we need to sit down an' have a bit of a chat, yeah?"

Buffy nodded.

~*~

"You want me to what?"

"It's okay, B. It doesn't hurt." Faith laughed and leant back against Wesley, her legs dangling over the arm of the couch, her fingers twining with his as they waited for the show to begin.

"I... No. What about Spike? I bet he sings way better than me." She looked around frantically for support, eyes wide as she searched for the once more conveniently absent vampire.

"Told ya you need a bell."

"He's... I'll just go find him..."

"Easy, pigeon." Lorne stepped between Buffy and the door, reaching for her, then changing his mind at the last minute, his hands hovering in the air as he spoke. "Now I'm not making any promises, but if you do this, I might be able to help you find your sister. I just need a few bars. What do you say? Sing for Lorne?"

"You really don't want me to sing. And... I don't know what to sing. Spike..."

"Sing anything. Your favourite boy band tune. A nursery rhyme. It doesn't matter. No pressure, sweetness. Nobody's gonna laugh at you..."

"I will." Faith waved her hand.

"You're not helping," Wesley admonished.

Buffy swallowed, looking around the room nervously. Faith was staring at her, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. Oh, yeah, she was definitely enjoying this! Wes, on the other hand, was pointedly not looking at her, and Lorne was looking oddly sympathetic and comforting for a green and red horny demon. Horned, Buffy corrected herself. Not horny. Or he could be but... No, bad brain. No way did she want to go there. She gave herself a quick mental scrubbing and opened her mouth before she could change her mind. "Row, row, row your boat, gently down..."

She broke off, clutching at the amulet. "Spike!"


	14. Chapter 14

“Spike!” Buffy yelled again as she rushed into the kitchen, grabbing packets of blood and stuffing them into a bag.

“Comin’,” Spike responded. His boots thumping on the stairs as he made his way down.

“Grab our stuff.”

“One step ahead of you, pet. Figured the only reason you’d be screamin’ like a bleeding banshee was if it was time to go.” He smirked unrepentantly at her affronted glare. “No time for that, Slayer. You can kick my arse when we get where we’re goin’. Now say goodbye to the nice people,” he said, nodding to indicate their hosts and the rather thoughtful looking demon.

Buffy glared at him once more before turning an appreciative smile on those hovering in the doorway. “Thank you. You have no idea how much help you’ve been and...”

“No need,” Wesley said, shaking his head. “It was our pleasure. Good luck.”

“Faith...”

“Just go, B. Find your sis, okay?” Faith said nonchalantly. “Take care,” she added at a whisper when she found herself suddenly and unexpectedly engulfed in a quick hug before the blonde slayer pulled away and started tugging her pack hastily onto her back.

“Buffy.” Lorne’s use of her name rather than one of the cute nicknames that she’d noticed he used for everyone—including Spike, much to the vampire’s disgust—had Buffy stopping in mid-action. “Sometimes,” he continued once he had her attention, “looking isn't enough, you have to learn to see.”

“Uh...okay,” Buffy replied, smiling uncertainly at the earnest-looking demon. “I’ll remember that.”

“Ready, Slayer?” Spike asked as he finished stowing the blood Buffy had gathered and shouldering the duffle Faith had picked up for him.

Buffy nodded, reaching for him and beginning the incantation.

~*~

They landed on soft grass, in the crisp air of early evening. Buffy hugged herself as she looked around, waiting for the deep chill of their journey to dissipate. “We’re back in Sunnydale,” she said, recognising the small park.

“Looks like,” Spike agreed. “Now let’s see if the Bit’s around.” Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the plethora of scents mingling on the breeze.

Buffy fidgeted impatiently while she waited, chewing the inside of her lip to keep from asking him if he’d found anything.

“Dammit,” Spike cursed. “There’s nothing. Reckon there’s something wrong with that little bauble of yours. It’s bloody compass is off or something.”

Buffy sighed. “Okay, well I guess all we can do is look around, and hope you can pick something up.”

After an hour of roaming around the streets of Sunnydale, stopping every now and then for Spike to scent the air, they were no closer to finding Dawn, and Sunnydale was down several vampires.

Exiting Shady Hill Cemetery, they found themselves heading automatically towards Revello Drive.

“Maybe she went home,” Buffy suggested.

“Worth a try,” Spike said, closing his eyes and inhaling once more as she set off towards her house. “Hang on, pet.” He stopped and inhaled more deeply. “There’s something. She’s been through here, but not recently.”

“How not recently?” Buffy asked.

“Hours... maybe ten or more.”

“Come on, let’s try the house.” Buffy hurried down the street.

An SUV pulled up across the street and a frazzled-looking Giles got out and hurried across the street towards them. “Buffy, Spike. Thank goodness. Have you found Dawn?”

“So we are back here,” Buffy mused aloud. “No. God, Giles are you sure this thing even works? We’ve been all over the place looking for her and all we keep coming up with is dead ends.”

“Damn that girl. I hope you’re going to have a firm word with her about responsibility. If she didn’t want to do the job, she should have said so and we would have found somebody else. As it is, it’s probably too late. Unless you’d consider...?”

“What the bleedin’ hell are you on about, Watcher?” Spike growled.

“It’s alright, Giles,” Buffy explained, having realised somewhere mid-rant that this wasn’t their Giles after all. “Spike won’t hurt you he’s...”

“I know he won’t hurt...”

“Got a chip...”

“Chip?” Giles frowned, looking from his slayer to her companion. “I’m reasonably sure I’m missing something.”

“It’s a long story,” Spike said, having come to the same realisation as Buffy.

“We’re from another dimension. This Plonky demon kidnapped Dawn and we’re trying to find her.”

“Or not,” Spike muttered. “And it’s P’Lontus,” he continued more loudly, raising an eyebrow at the slayer as he bit back the ‘you stupid bint’ that he was tempted to add.

Buffy shrugged. “We were going to try the house… um, where my house is in our dimension... You know, in case she went home.”

“Another dimension?” Giles asked, intrigued. “Fascinating. But what makes you believe she’s here?”

“This,” Buffy said, holding out the amulet. “It’s some kind of tracking thingy. Only, lately? Not so much with the tracking. Spike thinks it’s broken.”

“Remarkable.” Removing his glasses, Giles squinted and peered closely at the innocuous-looking amulet.

“Yeah, well, it’d be more remarkable if it worked,” Spike grumbled.

“You say a P’Lontus demon kidnapped Dawn?” Giles asked, dragging his attention away from the amulet and replacing his glasses. “That’s most uncharacteristic, they’re generally a peaceful race...”

“Yeah, so Wes said. Only this one? Not so much with the peaceful and more with the kidnapping my sister. So, normally peaceful or not, when I get my hands on this thing I’m gonna make demon chop suey out of it.”

“Understandable, I’m sure. So where do you live in your dimension?”

“On Revello Drive,” Buffy said, indicating the direction they’d been heading in.

“Ah. Then I think the best course of action is for us to go to Buffy and Spike’s and see if your Dawn has turned up.”

“Buffy and Spike’s?” Buffy asked, incredulously.

“Yes, I... Oh, dear,” he said when he noticed both Buffy’s wide eyed stare and the wistful look on the vampire’s face. “Forgive me, I assumed as you were travelling together...” He trailed off, removing his handkerchief from his pocket and carefully polishing his glasses before continuing. “In this dimension, you, that is our Spike and Buffy are, well, I believe the term is cohabiting. They’ve been together for almost four years now.”

“And you’re okay with this?” she asked, her gaze flicking briefly from her watcher’s face to her companion’s. “I mean...vampire.”

“Well, I certainly had my reservations in the beginning, but Spike has proven time and again that those reservations were unfounded. I have no doubt as to the sincerity of his feelings for our Buffy. In fact, over the years Spike and I have become rather good friends.” He gave Spike an apologetic smile for talking about him—in a manner of speaking—as if he were not there. “He’s quite learned, and of course there is so much of history that he’s experienced firsthand. Not to mention it’s pleasant to have someone to talk to who speaks the Queen’s English,” he added with a smirk. “Now if I might suggest...” He waved his hand toward the still-idling SUV.


	15. Chapter 15

For anyone interested, this dimension is the one from my story [Axis of Love](http://www.axisoflove.org/Axis/index.html), and is set in roughly 4 years after Axis.

 

“You guys got back quick,” Dawn said opening the front door to Giles’ knock and stepping aside to allow him in. “What, did Spike break the land speed record or something?”  
“Dawn!” Buffy exclaimed, moving to push past Giles only to be stopped short by Spike’s hand on her arm and the quick shake of his head when she turned to question him. This wasn’t their Dawn.

“Well, at least we know you’re safe—if somewhat tardy,” Giles said.

“That was so not my fault. Mel’s mom got a puncture on the way back, and we had to wait for the auto club guy, and he took forever... And...and I forgot to take my cell phone when I left this morning,” she finished in a rush. “I’m sorry, Giles, I really didn’t mean to be late. I know tonight’s important. But I’m here now—all ready to go. And Spike’s already yelled at me.” She looked past Giles to pout at the vampire still standing on the porch. “So could we please skip the lecture and I’ll just grab my stuff?”

“Yes, well, I’m afraid there’s been a change of plan. If you wouldn’t mind inviting Spike in we can...”

“Huh?”

“This isn’t our Buffy and Spike,” he explained.

“Again with the huh?”

“If you would stop interrupting me every two seconds and let me explain,” Giles snapped.

Dawn rolled her eyes. “Geesh, cranky much?” she muttered before leaning back against the wall and signalling for him to continue.

“Buffy and Spike, that is this Buffy and Spike, are from another—parallel—dimension.”

“Like Sliders?” she asked, before adding a quick apology when the watcher glared at her once more.

“Yes, like Sliders,” Giles said, fighting the urge to roll his own eyes at the fact that, thanks to Spike and Dawn’s shared love of the show in question, he actually understood what Dawn was talking about. “It seems that their Dawn has been kidnapped and they’ve been trying to find her.

“Like...”

“Dawn!”

“Sorry,” she huffed.

“Now if you don’t mind...”

“Huh? Oh, yeah... Come in, Spike,” she said. “Uh...unless, you’re, you know...evil?”

“You do know it’s a bit late for caveats once you’ve already issued the invite, don’t you, pet?” Spike said as he entered, his voice tinged with equal parts laughter and concern.

~*~

“Jenny? I’m at Buffy and Spike’s,” Giles said when the phone was picked up at the other end. “Yes, we’ve found Dawn. She asked me to give you her apologies. And I’m afraid that I’m going to have to ask your forgiveness, too. It seems something—rather remarkable, actually—has come up that requires our attention.” Giles sighed. “I know, and I’m so sorry, my dear. I do promise to make it up to you.” He listened for a moment before continuing, “Yes, it would probably be best if you came here—I’m sure that Dawn will entertain William for us while we work.” He glanced at the teen hovering in the living room doorway; Dawn’s eager nod confirmed his words. “Yes, that would be good, although you might want to buy enough for two extra. I have to go,” he announced, cringing at the protesting squeal of tyres on the driveway, “if I’m not mistaken Spike and Buffy are home. I love you too. I’ll see you shortly.”

He poked his head into the living room and smiled reassuringly at the dimension-travellers. “Jenny will be over soon,” he said over the heavy clunk of boots on the stairs. “And she’s bringing pizza,” he added for Dawn’s benefit.

~*~

“Spike?”

“Not now, Bit.”

“But I...”

“I said not now,” Spike snapped, closing his eyes for a moment and then huffing out a sigh. “Gimme a hand getting something out of the boot, Rupert?” he asked, turning on his heel and heading back out the door without waiting for an answer.

Giles opened his mouth to say that there was more important business at hand than getting their latest acquisition out of the boot—a task that he was sure the vampire could accomplish quite well without his meagre assistance, then, catching Buffy’s pleading look, he closed it and followed Spike outside.

“Buffy, I didn’t mean to...” Dawn started, swiping roughly at the tears that threatened to fall.

“I know, sweetie,” Buffy said, wrapping her free arm around her sister’s shoulders and squeezing gently while balancing a large vase on her hip with the other arm. “He was worried. Just give him a chance to cool down.” She brushed the hair away from Dawn’s face, tucking it behind her ear before adding, “But you know you aren’t supposed to go anywhere without your cell.”

“I know, and I thought I had it, honest. I took it out of my bag last night to charge it, and this morning I forgot that it wasn’t in there. I won’t do it again, I promise. I didn’t mean to worry you guys, and I really didn’t mean to make Giles late for dinner...”

“Shhh,” Buffy said, breaking into the teen’s spiel before she could get too worked up. “It’s okay. No harm done, just be more careful next time, ‘kay?”

“I will, I promise.”

“So, you all ready to go?” Buffy asked, changing the subject.

“I...uh, that is... Buffy, something really cool’s happened. Just...don’t freak, okay?” Dawn turned her sister around so she was facing the living room.

~*~

The loud crash had Spike flying up the stairs and back into the house with Giles on his heels.

“It’s alright,” Giles said between pants.

“This got something to do with what you were trying to tell me out there?” Spike asked, slipping an arm around Buffy as they stared at their doubles.

“We come in peace,” the dimension travelling Spike quipped, holding his hands up palms out.

“Spike!” his Buffy chastised, hitting him lightly on the shoulder before turning to their counterparts. “Please, ignore him, he’s such an...”

“Yeah, he is,” the other Buffy agreed with an affectionate smile. “And apparently it’s not just mine that is.”

“Oi,” the two Spikes protested in unison.

“If we’re quite done, perhaps we could retire to the living room for a sensible discussion?” Giles pinched the bridge of his nose, he had a feeling that this was going to be a very long night.

“Aren’t you supposed to be going out? Anniversary, remember?” Buffy asked.

“Yes, that was the plan. However, I think the situation at hand is rather more pressing.”


	16. Chapter 16

“Did you know there’s a horse on your driveway?” Jenny asked as Buffy opened the door for her and then scooped William out of her arms.  
“Bugger!” Spike exclaimed from the living room. “Come on, Watcher, grab your keys and lend us a hand.”

“You do realise he’s only just turning one, don’t you?” Jenny asked as Spike stopped to tickle William and press a kiss to the top of Buffy’s head on his way past. “He’s just as likely to play with the wrapping paper.”

“’s not the point, is it?” Spike responded. “And this’ll last him years,” he added over his shoulder.

“It really is a beautiful piece of workmanship,” Giles agreed, kissing his wife and son and following Spike out the door to help finish loading the rocking horse into his SUV.

“Books are in the trunk and the pizzas are on the front seat,” Jenny called out to the two men before turning with Buffy and heading for the main living room. “So what’s the emergency?”

“We are,” Buffy chirped. “Or more like, more us-es, Other me and Spikes, or is that Spike and I’s?” she added with a frown.

“Parallel dimension...like Sliders,” Dawn said, reaching for the baby. “I’m looking after him, remember? You have slayer stuff you’ve got to do.”

Buffy looked for a moment like she was going to protest, before pouting and handing William over with a last kiss to the soft brown curls.

“Can I take him down to your room? We’ll stay in the living room,” she added quickly. “It’s just that you guys are using the one upstairs, and my room doesn’t have a couch or a TV...”

“Or a Playstation?” Buffy added.

“That too,” Dawn agreed.

“You’re meant to be watching William, not playing computer games.”

“But he loves watching Spiro... And I wasn’t gonna just play computer games. I’ve got some books,” she wiggled them for emphasis, “and I’m taking his toys down too.” She looked pleadingly at her sister. “I promise not to mess anything up or go in your bedroom.”

“Okay, but don’t forget to eat.”

“I won’t,” Dawn promised, snagging William’s bag from Jenny and heading off before Buffy could find a reason to stop her.

“That is okay with you, isn’t it?” Buffy asked as she and Jenny watched the teen disappear through to the kitchen and downstairs.

“It’s fine. She’s right, he does love watching the games...it’s all the bright colours.”

~*~

After they’d eaten, and Spike and Buffy had told their tale, they’d split off into two groups; the research party had cleared off the dining table and pulled out box loads of books, while Jenny had grabbed her laptop and asked Buffy to join her the living room.

“Do you remember anything about the spell they used?” Jenny’s brow furrowed slightly while her mind raced through possible flaws in the Iemlenu amulet.

Buffy shook her head. “Just lots of chanting and incense waving,” she answered. “Spike and I were mostly doing other stuff while they got the amulet ready. But I know the chant that makes it...you know, do the jumpy thing.” Removing the amulet from around her neck and placing it on the table, Buffy spoke the words slowly and carefully as Jenny jotted them down. When she was finished she settled the amulet back into its usual place.

“The words won’t do anything unless the amulet is activated,” Jenny said with an amused smile.

“Yeah, I know. But just in case...” Buffy responded. “If it is broken, who knows what it might do.”

Jenny gave a non-committal ‘hmmm’ in response, but was already busy studying the incantation and scribbling notes.

“So,” Buffy said after what seemed like an eternity of sitting in silence watching Jenny writing and muttering to herself, “you named your son after Spike?” She was intrigued by the way that Spike was accepted, and even liked by her friends in this world, even if she wasn’t yet ready to try to get her mind around the fact that her counterpart and Spike were together and very obviously happy.

Jenny smiled, and holding one finger up to her lips, she looked through into the dining room where everyone was poring through the piles of books looking for any references they could find to do with P’Lontus demons. Drawing Buffy into a huddle, she said in a hushed voice, “After Rupert’s grandfather, actually. They were very close. But it makes Spike happy to think that he’s named after him.”

“He’s... you guys really like him, huh?”

“You don’t?” Jenny asked, confused.

“Oh, no... I mean, yes, I do. But...” Buffy shrugged, not knowing how to explain the complexities of Spike’s relationship with her and her friends.

“I take it he’s not as accepted in your world,” Jenny stated. “Things weren’t always smooth sailing for you guys here, either,” she continued when Buffy dropped her gaze to the hands folded neatly in her lap. “But in time... well, you’ve seen. Spike is as much a part of the group as anyone. Buffy, our Buffy, was very...adamant about not allowing anyone to interfere in their relationship. Spike’s a good man; it took us a little while to see that, but eventually we did. He loves Buffy and Dawn, and I like to think he cares about the rest of us, too.”

“But he doesn’t have a chip?” Buffy asked, remembering the watcher’s reaction when she’d mentioned Spike’s chip.

“A chip?”

“Yeah, a micro-chip thingy. Spike, my Spike, was captured by this secret military group...”

“The Initiative?” Jenny asked, interrupting Buffy’s tale.

“You know about them, then,” Buffy said, shrugging. “They put this chip in his head...he can’t bite—or hurt—anyone without causing himself major pain. Anyone human, that is. He can still hurt demons. That’s how we... It’s why he started helping us—for money.”

“That’s awful. Can you get it out?”

“Get it out? Why? He’s... I don’t know what your Spike is like, but ours was really scary before he was chipped. He tried to kill us a heap of times.”

“Do you think he’d try to kill you now?” Jenny asked.

“I... I don’t know.” Buffy frowned, thinking about how much Spike had changed in the last year or two. “I don’t think so,” she said eventually. “Not me, anyway. Or Dawn.” She glanced over at where the two vampires were engrossed in their research, platinum heads bowed and the same furrows creasing each of their brows as they studied the pages. They were practically identical, except the other Spike wasn’t quite as thin, and he didn’t have the same pinched, guarded look as her Spike. He smiled more readily too...not a smirk, or a grin, or a leer, not even the shy little half-smile that only she, or Dawn had ever seen, but a real, genuine smile. She’d seen him bestow them on this world’s Buffy and her friends, and been the recipient of one when he’d told her and Spike that they’d do everything they could to help them find Dawn.

Her head hurt, she needed to get away from Jenny and her questions. Questions that made her think about things she wasn’t ready to deal with right now. “I should go help,” she told her former teacher, nodding towards the research party. “And let you work on fixing the amulet.”

“Yes,” Jenny said, frowning again as she remembered the breakthrough she’d been on the verge of when Buffy had first interrupted her. “I think I might know what the problem is. I just need to check...” She reached for her laptop, barely noticing when Buffy got up and moved into the other room.


	17. Chapter 17

“So, where is everyone?” Buffy asked, shutting yet another book and pushing it aside with a weary sigh.   
“Hmmm?” Giles dragged himself away from the passage he’d been reading and blinked.

“You know, Willow, Xander... the rest of the gang?”

“LA, I believe,” Giles answered distractedly, his eyes flicking back to the book.

“The Dingoes had a gig in LA Friday night; Xan had the weekend off, so Faith and him decided to go with Willow and Oz and make a weekend of it,” this dimension’s Buffy answered, rolling her eyes at her watcher’s typical lack of interest in anything not slayer related. “They’ll be back sometime tomorrow night.”

“Xander and Faith?” Buffy asked, her eyes widening in disbelief. “You mean as in... together?”

“See,” this dimension’s Spike said, turning to give his Buffy a smug look, “‘m not the only one wonders what she sees in the boy.”

“No, I...” Buffy snapped her mouth shut, deciding it was better not to correct Spike’s misconception. She frowned, silently wondering why she ended up with the homicidal Faith in her dimension. “Never mind,” she added when they continued to stare at her expectantly.

Spike’s eyes narrowed slightly as he studied this other-world version of his love for a moment, before giving her a brief nod and returning his attention to the book in front of him.

“Rupert,” Jenny called from the doorway. “Would you mind checking over my notes for me?”

~*~

“I’m pretty sure that the amulet is functioning properly; the problem is in the phrasing of your activation chant. You’re asking it to take you to the subject—in this case Dawn—but you’re then asking for it to ‘bring you to the familiar’. So, as far as I can tell, it is taking you to the dimension that Dawn is in, but instead of taking you to where she is, it is taking you to somewhere or someone you’re familiar with.”

“Great,” Spike growled. “So Red stuffed up, as usual.”

“Can you fix it?” Buffy asked hopefully.

“It’s not broken, so it doesn’t need fixing. I just needed to remove the superfluous phrase from your chant and tidy up the grammar. Nice and easy,” Jenny informed them with a smile. “Now you just need to learn the new chant, and it should take you directly to Dawn. I’ve written the chant down, just in case you have to leave before you’ve had a chance to learn it.” She handed each of them a neatly folded piece of paper.

~*~

Buffy opened the door to the guest room. “The bathroom’s through there,” she told her guests, pointing to the door. “That’s Dawn’s room.” She pointed once more. “And Spike and I are in the basement. If you need anything—”

Looking over his Buffy’s shoulder, Spike saw that the room contained only a double bed, and was just opening his mouth to suggest he take the couch downstairs when she smiled and nodded her thanks to her counterpart. “We’re good. All we need is some sleep. You guys have been great, you have no idea how much this means,” she said with a gesture that took in their surroundings and ended with her hand resting protectively over the pocket containing Jenny’s new version of the activation chant.

Buffy’s eyes grew distant for a moment as she thought about how she would feel if something happened to her Dawn. “I think I have an idea,” she said. “And I’m sure that if the situation was reversed, you guys would do the same for us. Get some sleep. Knowing Giles, he’ll be back in a few hours to continue the research party—he hasn’t had an excuse for one in a while, and you know what he’s like when the inner watcher breaks out.”

“I didn’t know it ever went away,” Spike muttered, following Buffy into the room as their host headed back downstairs.

“You should have some blood,” Buffy said, rummaging through his duffle and pulling out a bag. “We should have put these in the fridge; they might go off. I should do that now before I forget,” she added, dropping the duffle bag on the bed and snatching up the remaining blood bags.

“Leave them,” Spike said, catching her by the shoulders. “I can sleep downstairs on the couch, love. Or,” he grabbed a pillow off the bed and dropped it on the floor, “the floor will do fine. Get some sleep,” he added, pushing her gently towards the bed.

“No. I— I want you to stay...here,” she added, patting the bed. “It’s just—”

“Awkward?”

Buffy nodded. “Yeah.” She sighed. “I want you to stay, but I don’t want you to think—”

“Don’t worry,” Spike cut her off sharply. “Know better than to think.”

“See,” she snapped. “That’s what I’m talking about!” She drew a deep breath, visibly calming herself before meeting his gaze levelly and picking up the discarded bag of blood. “Eat. Please.”

Spike took the bag, and slipping into his vampiric features, he neatly pierced the plastic and downed the contents.

“I want you to stay,” Buffy said again. “And I do want to see if maybe there’s something— But Dawn is my priority and I don’t want to rush. And,” she continued quickly before he could interrupt her, “I don’t want you thinking that I don’t want to see just because I don’t want to rush. Did that make any kind of sense?” she asked, smiling at the confused look on Spike’s face.

“Only the Buffy kind,” Spike chuckled. “It’s alright, love. I don’t expect anything, and I know that getting Dawn back is our first priority. I promise I won’t get any ideas—good or bad, ‘kay?”

“Okay.”

“Right, so...floor or bed?” he asked, not quite sure where the trail of Buffy logic had left them.

“Bed, you doofus. Isn’t that what I just said?”

“If you say so, love,” he responded. Laughing once more, he kicked off his boots and slipped into bed.

“Eww. Spike, you have blood breath. Toothpaste, look into it,” Buffy ordered, gathering her own toiletries and beating him to the bathroom. “Or no goodnight kiss,” she added, laughing as she closed the bathroom door.


	18. Chapter 18

Spike lay half-dozing; the sounds of activity floating up from downstairs pulled at his consciousness, but he didn't want to wake up yet. It wasn't that anything had happened last night—at least nothing beyond a sweet, almost-chaste kiss goodnight and a fully-clothed Buffy sleeping cuddled up against him—but as far as nights went, it ranked right up there as one of the best he'd known in his reasonably long life, and he was in no hurry to see it end.

Buffy stirred, snuggling closer and burying her face against his chest while mumbling something that was incomprehensible even to vampire ears. He brushed the hair back from her face with one hand, tightening the other arm fractionally to hold her close for just a few moments more.

~*~

Buffy opened the fridge, stifling a yawn and frowning as she stared at the contents, or lack thereof.

“Looking for something, love?” Spike sauntered into the kitchen behind her, smirking when she jumped, then sprawling back against the doorjamb with practiced negligence as he studied her silently.

“I... Uh... Where do you keep the blood?” Buffy asked. “I mean, we brought some, but with everything,” she waved her hands in the direction of the dining room, “we kinda forgot to put it in the fridge, and well...” She crinkled her nose in disgust and continued, “So, I was hoping we could borrow—or it wouldn't really be borrowing because he couldn't exactly give it back when he's done with it—but...” She grimaced and shook her head. “You can stop me any time, you know...”

Spike laughed. “I was kinda enjoying watching you babble,” he admitted with a grin.

“Gee...thanks,” Buffy said. “So... blood?”

“Sorry, pet. Don't keep any. But if you want, I can send the Nibblet to pick some up.”

“Thanks, that would be... Hang on, you don't keep any? Then how do you...?”

His eyes sparkled, lips pursing into a far-too-sexy combination of a smirk and a pout as his gaze dipped slowly from her eyes to her throat.

“Oh,” Buffy said. “Oh!” Her eyes widened and she swallowed hard. “I, uh... okay. I should...” she glanced through the doorway to where her counterpart's voice could be heard arguing with Dawn in the next room, “...I should check to see if Spike's out of the shower yet, let him know breakfast will be here soon.” The low rumble of his laughter echoed in her ears as she hurried past him. She took the stairs two at a time, wondering how this Spike could be so much like hers and yet so different, and why he made her so nervous. It was obvious that he was very much in love with this world's version of herself, and that she, and her friends, trusted him completely; so soul or no soul, he obviously wasn't evil. Besides, she told herself, it wasn't really an evil-vibes kind of nervous, it was more that he made her feel like he knew the punch line to some big cosmic joke that she hadn't even worked out she was the butt of.

She charged into their room and stopped dead. Her face, already flushed from the encounter in the kitchen, reddened further. “I'm sorry,” she said, turning to face the door. “I should have knocked.”

“'s alright, love,” Spike replied, quickly pulling a clean pair of jeans up his still-slightly-damp legs. “You can turn around now,” he added as he reached into his bag for a clean shirt.

“I'm really sorry, I...”

“Buffy,” he interrupted, closing the distance between them and caressing her burning cheek lightly with his knuckles, “believe me when I say that I have no problem with you seein' me naked. In point of fact...”

“Don't,” Buffy said. “Please. No jokes. I think I've had about all I can take of you laughing at me for one day.”

Spike frowned. “When...?”

Buffy shook her head and sighed, leaning forward until her head rested against his chest. His arms closed around her, and she brought her own up to circle his waist, her eyes closing as she allowed herself to be comforted. “You didn't,” she said eventually, tilting her head up to meet his confused gaze. “Or, not you you—the other you. Not in an evil way or anything,” she added hastily when Spike's face darkened. “Just, I don't know... like he's teasing me, or sharing some kind of in joke—only I'm not in.”

Spike stroked her hair as she rested her head once more against his chest, the rhythmic caress of his fingers soothing away the last of her discomfort and lulling her gently towards sleep.

“There isn't any blood,” Buffy said, snapping herself out of the dreamlike trance as she remembered her earlier errand. “Spike,” she grimaced, rolling her eyes at the absurdity of the situation, “the _other_ Spike, said he'll send Dawn to get some for you.”

He stiffened slightly, and she caught a flash of something in his eyes before his face closed off and he nodded. “Thanks, love.”

“Spike?”

“C'mon, Slayer,” he said, turning away from her to grab a pair of socks out of the duffle. “Work to do, yeah?” Before Buffy could get her mind around his sudden change in mood, he had finished dressing in a remarkable display of vampiric coordination and was on his way down the stairs.

~*~

Buffy lifted her face and the steaming jets struck, their sharp sting soothing away the frustration of the day.

It had been a very long day.

Despite the continued research party, they were no closer to understanding why a usually peaceful demon had kidnapped her sister. Buffy's neck ached from many hours of staring at books, and she turned so the hot water was hitting the back of her neck and stiff, sore shoulders. She sighed with pleasure as the heat worked its way into her protesting muscles, and wondered why sitting at a table reading could make her hurt more than going ten rounds with a vampire.

Her thoughts jumped to the vampire waiting for her in their room. “Assuming he is actually in there waiting,” she muttered to herself, “and not sulking outside in the dark.” She knew he wouldn't go far, not with the chance that the amulet could go off at any time.

She sighed once more, this time in frustration. Things had started off so well that morning, what with the waking up slowly, snuggled-up together after a lovely restful night's sleep. And even though it should have been awkward, or at least she assumed it should have been, it wasn't. It just felt right. They'd cuddled for a little longer, talking about the progress they'd made with the amulet, and their increased hope of finding Dawn sometime soon. Eventually her nagging bladder and growling stomach had driven her from bed, and she'd volunteered to get breakfast while Spike showered, and that's when the day had started to go downhill—rapidly!

Buffy still didn't understand what she'd done to upset Spike, but he'd been politely distant all day—nodding or answering her briefly when she spoke to him, not rude, just not...Spike.

She turned off the water, grabbing her towel and scrubbing briskly at her body and hair as she stepped out of the shower. She hadn't realised how much she'd come to cherish their new-found closeness until it was gone, and she was determined to find out what had happened.


	19. Chapter 19

“Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” Buffy asked as she climbed onto the bed, slipping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his back as she spoke again. “I don’t like upsetting you, and I don’t know what I did...”  
“Nothing,” Spike answered sharply. He sighed when he felt Buffy stiffen against his back and begin to withdraw. “You didn’t do anything,” he added gently, bringing his hand up to cover hers and halt her withdrawal. “It’s the chip,” he explained when he felt her relax once more. “Knowing what they’ve got.” He indicated toward the stairs with a tilt of his head. “What they can share that we can never have.”

“You mean biting?” Buffy asked, a small frown creasing her brow.

“Yeah. That, and the trust...”

“I trust you!”

“You mean you trust that the chip won’t let me hurt anyone. It’s not the same. Don’t get to prove to you that you can trust me, do I?”

“No,” Buffy said, standing and moving to in front of him, hands on her hips and glare firmly fixed in place as she continued. “That’s not what I mean. I mean that I trust you, Spike. I may not be Willow, but I know enough about computers and stuff to know that they break. It used to bother me; that one day the chip would stop working and I’d have to stake you.” She reached out to stroke his cheek, her face softening. “But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I realised that I’m not worried about that now. I know you won’t hurt anyone.” She smirked and added, “Not even Xander,” before sobering. “I trust you, Spike. Don’t you get it? I couldn’t feel this way if I didn’t.”

He stared at her open-mouthed for a second while his brain fully-processed her words, then reached out, pulling her into his lap and claiming a kiss that went far beyond the soft, almost-chaste kisses they’d shared so far.

After a few minutes, Buffy twisted in Spike’s arms to straddle his lap. One hand untucked his shirt and snaked beneath it to map his back, while the other tangled in his hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

Neither were prepared for the intensity of their reactions, and as the denim beneath Buffy hardened, she ground against him, his name escaping in a soft moan as she clung to him, her nails digging into smooth, silky skin.

“Buffy,” Spike gasped and broke away, panting harshly as he stood, depositing Buffy on the bed where he’d just been sitting.

The lustful shine in her eyes faded, clouding with confusion and hurt, and he reached out, cupping her cheek tenderly to lessen the sting of his actions. “’m sorry, love. But if you still wanna take things slow...” He smiled wryly and shrugged. “Course, if you’ve changed your mind about that...” he added with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows and allowing his gaze to drop and wander appreciatively over her body.

“No.” Buffy shook her head, smiling sadly and dropping her gaze to the floor. “You’re right. I’m sorry,” she added, lifting her eyes once more to meet his. “I shouldn’t have...”

“You didn’t,” Spike cut her off. “We did.” He stroked her cheek rhythmically with his thumb, his fingers sliding into her hair as he held her gaze, his eyes bright with emotion. “And I’m not sorry.”

Buffy smiled, closing her eyes for a moment and leaning into his touch.

He scooped her up and carried her to the head of the bed. Pulling the covers back with one hand, he continued to hold Buffy as he slid them into bed and pulled the covers back up in one fluid motion. “Get some sleep, love,” he told her, dropping a kiss to the back of her head as he snuggled against her back, his arm draped across her waist. Buffy twisted in his embrace, reaching up to brush a gentle kiss against his lips and whisper, “Good night, Spike,” while trying not to think about how easy it would be to just...

~*~

“So... there’s two of you?” Buffy woke to the sound of Xander’s voice floating up from the house below.

“Hard to believe so much perfection can exist at once,” Spike replied, and Buffy smiled at the mental picture she got of the smug look on his face as he gloated. “Ow, what was that for?” he continued indignantly, adding after a moment’s pause, “It just so happens I was referring to you.”

“Yeah, right,” this world’s Buffy responded with a snort.

“What are they like?” Willow asked. “I mean, are they like exact copies, or...”

“Outwardly they appear to be identical,” Giles said. “Their experiences, however, do seem to have differed somewhat, leading to some slight changes in their characters.”

“I’m guessing the fact that they’re sleeping in the guest room and not the cage means they’re not homicidal,” Faith said.

“No, no, nothing like that,” Giles assured the newcomers. “If anything I would say they are more timid,” he offered. “Less confident than the Spike and Buffy we’re used to. But, of course, much of that could be attributed to their present circumstances—being dragged from world to world in search of Dawn and not knowing if they will ever find her, or what her condition will be if they do... I can only imagine how much of a strain that must be.”

Buffy’s cheeks reddened at finding herself the subject of their discussion, and she slipped out of Spike’s arms, rolling out of bed and banging purposefully into the dresser to alert those downstairs to the fact that they were awake.

“Morning,” Spike mumbled sleepily, stifling a yawn and running his hand through sleep-tousled curls as he sat up.

“Morning,” Buffy replied, simultaneously noting that the conversation downstairs had ceased, and that a sleep-rumpled Spike was too adorable for words. Fighting the urge to crawl back into bed with her oh-so-kissable vampire, she inclined her head towards the stairs and said, “The rest of the gang’s arrived.”

“Great,” Spike said. “Xander Harris. Just what I need to start my day.”

“You never know...” Buffy began, her eyes widening mid-sentence as she clutched the amulet. “Grab our stuff,” she called over her shoulder as she flew out the door and down the stairs.

Spike snatched up Buffy’s backpack, settling it on his back as he stuffed their shoes into his duffle. Slinging the duffle over his shoulder, he quickly glanced around the room for anything he may have missed before following Buffy out the door.

“We’ve got to go,” Buffy called out as she ran past the living room door and into the kitchen. Everyone had gathered in the hall by the time Spike met her back at the base of the stairs, her hands filled with the blood packets from the fridge. She unzipped her pack and stuffed them inside before turning to their hosts.

“Thank you,” she said, looking from face to face. “You have no idea how much it means...” She captured and held Jenny’s gaze, her hand closing automatically around the warm, pulsing amulet. “Thank you,” she repeated. Spike’s fingers entwined with hers, and she turned to look at him, seeing the hope she felt reflected in his eyes as they began the new incantation.


	20. Chapter 20

The darkness retreated, but the bitter cold of their journey remained.

They were in a forest somewhere, huge trees surrounded them, and snow lay in a thick, frozen blanket on the ground. Buffy grabbed their shoes out of Spike's duffle, and dragged her socks on as quickly as possible over her now painfully-numb feet, thankful that she'd taken to sleeping in track pants and a t-shirt rather than her much thinner pyjamas. Spike quickly shed his duster and draped it around her shoulders before stuffing his feet into his boots and lacing them.

Buffy stomped and hugged herself in an attempt to warm her frozen extremities. “Where are we?” she asked, her teeth chattering.

“Don't know,” Spike replied. “But we have company.” He pointed through the trees to where two distant figures flitted in and out of the shadows. “Come on.” He took off; Buffy quickly slipped her arms into the sleeves of the coat and followed. The slippery, iced-over snow was hard going, and Buffy struggled to keep pace with Spike as he wove gracefully through trunks and under heavily laden boughs.

Fat white flakes began to drift downwards, slowly at first, then faster in a blinding swirl of white. Buffy slowed, her hands outstretched to protect her face as she cast about her for the now-invisible trail she'd been following through the trees. “Spike?” she called, her voice quivering slightly as she fought down a surge of panic.

“'m here,” he answered, his voice sounding hollow and distant. “Just stay still.”

The wait seemed to last forever; her body temperature cooled rapidly now that she was no longer moving, and she pulled Spike's coat firmly around her as she strained to see through the rapidly falling snow.

“Buffy.” Spike's voice came from behind her.

“Oh, thank God,” she said, releasing the breath she hadn't even realised she'd been holding as she spun around to face him.

“You alright?” Spike asked, tilting his head slightly as he ran his eyes up her body, looking for injuries.

Buffy nodded. “I couldn't see,” she said, indicating the air around her. She clenched her teeth as they began to chatter once more.

Spike stepped forward, taking her hand. “'s this way,” he told her pointing back the way he'd come. They walked in silence for some time; Buffy gripping Spike's hand like a lifeline, and following blindly in his wake, while Spike concentrated on finding a safe passage through the trees and trying to find some sort of shelter. Buffy's fingers were only slightly warmer than his, and he knew she needed to get out of this weather soon.

“Do you know which way she went?” Buffy asked eventually over the now howling wind.

Spike shook his head. “Sorry, love. I lost her trail not long after the storm started. They were headed in this direction, but I don't know if they turned off somewhere...” His voice trailed off and Buffy almost ran into him when he stopped to stare downhill through the trees to their left. “Over there,” he said, pointing.

“Dawn?” Buffy asked hopefully.

Spike shook his head. “No, but it might be somewhere we can get out of the snow an' get you warmed up,” he replied before starting off toward the small cabin he'd spotted in the distance.

“But...”

“No buts, Slayer. We're not gonna find the bit in this storm, and you need to get warm ‘fore you freeze to death.”

The shadows were lengthening as the sun made its way slowly towards the horizon, and the small amount of light that made its way through the snow and the trees was rapidly fading, soon it would be completely dark. Spike was relieved when they finally made it down the last tricky slope to the cabin. It was empty, but looked to be well maintained. A couple of chairs sat on the small porch, shutters were well secured over the windows and a stack of firewood sat at the side of the building.

He tried the door and it opened easily. A thin layer of dust coated everything, but again things looked to be well maintained. A wood stove dominated one wall, a set of bunks rested against another with a blanket box at their foot, and a small table and chairs took up most of the remaining floor space. The inside was dry and markedly warmer than outside, even without the benefit of a fire. Spike opened the blanket box and found several blankets and sheets neatly folded within. He handed Buffy the blankets and turned to examine the stove. All the makings of a fire were stacked neatly to one side and he quickly set to work.

Buffy hung Spike's coat over one of the chairs and wrapped herself in the blankets before removing her shoes and cold, damp socks. She rummaged through her pack until she found a couple more pairs of socks and quickly pulled them on. Once Spike had the fire going, she moved one of the chairs closer—but not as close as she would have liked, Spike having warned her that she shouldn't sit right on top of the fire or she'd get chilblains—and munched on a protein bar from her pack.

Spike found a couple of hurricane lamps and lit them, before grabbing down a saucepan and a can of soup from the shelf over the stove.

“Feeling better?” Spike asked after they'd eaten. Buffy had all-but gulped down her steaming mug of soup while Spike warmed a packet of blood for himself.

Buffy nodded. “Yeah. Thanks,” she added, smiling warmly. “I just wish...”

“Was no point continuing,” Spike cut her off. “Was no way I could track her in that. Better to get a good night's rest, wait the storm out and start again in the morning.”

She continued to look unconvinced.

“Buffy,” he said, taking her hand and moving to where he could look her in the eye, “you know I want to find her as much as you do...”

“I know,” Buffy agreed. “But...”

“But I don't want to find her at the expense of losing you,” he continued brusquely. “Much longer out there and you wouldn't've been around to have this conversation. Then what would I have told little sis?” he added, lightening his tone to a gently teasing reprimand.

Buffy sighed. “You're right,” she admitted. “I just feel...”

“I know, love,” Spike said with a sad smile. “Believe me, I know.”

“Let's get some sleep,” Buffy said after several minutes' silence. Standing up, she took his hand and pulled him down onto the lower bunk with her. After a little squirming and fidgeting, they managed to get comfortable snuggled together on the narrow bunk and Buffy fell into an exhausted sleep while Spike held her, his mind still whirling with thoughts of how close he'd come to losing her. ‘If we hadn't found the cabin when we did...'

~*~

Spike had replenished the kindling and firewood while Buffy found a scrap of paper in her bag and wrote a quick thank you on it before placing the note inside the blanket box with the once-again folded linen.

The day had dawned clear and bright, the snow sparkled in the sunlight and Buffy stood on the porch and marvelled at how pretty it looked as she finished the coffee Spike had handed her.

“We need to get back up onto that ridge,” Spike indicated as he cleaned their mugs in the snow.

Buffy nodded and collected their gear while Spike checked that the cabin was in order. Once again she donned his coat, this time over several layers rather than just the track pants and sweater that she used for sleeping.

~*~

Once again, Buffy was finding it hard to get traction on the frozen snow and had slipped a few times before latching on to Spike's hand. They'd been hiking for a couple of hours, working their way steadily uphill in the direction Spike had last seen Dawn heading, and Buffy was beginning to regret the extra layers.

Spike stopped suddenly, holding up his free hand for silence as he tilted his head and strained to listen. “This way,” he said, setting off at a faster pace.

“Just go,” she told him when it became obvious that he would make better time without her.

“Be careful,” Spike said before setting off at a jog.

After a few minutes, Spike broke out of the steady jog he'd been maintaining and began running full out, he disappeared around a bend, and Buffy quickened her pace, continuing to slip and slide as she hurried after him.

“Spike. No!” Dawn's voice sounded ahead, and Buffy rushed on, rounding the corner in time to see a portal form and Spike reach out desperately as the demon and Dawn disappeared.

The amulet warmed and began to pulse as she continued on to where Spike knelt hunched over on the snow. The heavy scent of ozone tickled her nose, and the amulet continued to pulse urgently against her chest, growing warmer with each passing moment. Buffy knelt beside him, her hand resting gently on his back as she spoke his name.

He looked up at her. “She was right there...” He looked back down at his lap and Buffy saw that he held Dawn's jacket clutched tightly in his fists.

“I know,” Buffy told him, swallowing her own grief as she realised just how close Spike had come to rescuing her sister. “It's okay, Spike. We'll find her. But we need to go—now.” She gripped his arm, gently urging him to his feet.


	21. Chapter 21

This time they stepped out of the absolute darkness of their journey into the night-darkened sky of a large city. Rain fell in relentless sheets between the buildings, but the air was warm and oppressive. The usual scent of ozone that accompanied their dimensional shifts was stronger, hanging heavily in the air. Lightning flashed across the sky in twisting forks, illuminating the debris littered about the dim alley in which they'd landed. Spike squinted, shielding his eyes from the rain with one hand as he stared out into the night.

Ahead through the rain he could make out two forms; the demon hunched over Dawn, holding her hands, palm to palm, in his as they faced each other. They appeared to be conferring about something, his Bit's face earnest as she looked up at the monster and nodded.

With a roar he took off, Buffy falling quickly into step at his side, his coat flapping in the breeze behind her as they surged up the alley toward Dawn and her kidnapper.

“Spike, no!” Dawn screamed as Spike slammed the demon against the wall. “Buffy, please? Nish'tar won't hurt me. Please...” Dawn begged, pulling helplessly on Spike's arm.

“What do you mean he won't hurt you?” Buffy asked, frowning and wondering if her sister had that stock-thingy that you hear about on crime shows. “He kidnapped you, dragged you across countless dimensions, and...and I don't actually want to think about what 'and's there could be...”

“She,” Dawn corrected with a huff before deflating. “Okay, yeah, I was scared when she took me. And maybe it wasn't the best way of going about it, but there was a good reason. Any minute now the world is gonna end if I don't stop it. And it's something only I can do. Not the Slayer, or a witch or a vampire...me.”

Dawn looked over to where Spike still had Nish'tar pinned by the throat, waiting calmly to hear her out before either twisting sharply and ending the demon's life, or releasing it. “I could have gone home anytime I wanted. And I'm really sorry I worried you guys, but I knew you'd try to stop me doing this if you knew... and I have to. If I don't, the world—every world—will be swallowed up.”

“Dawn...” Buffy reached for her sister, her head shaking in denial.

“It's started,” Dawn said, staring up at the sky where a newly-formed tumult of black and purple boiled against the chaos of the storm-ridden night sky, “and that portal is just gonna keep getting bigger and sucking everything into it; first this world, then the next closest dimension, then the next and the next. I'm the Key, Buffy—I'm the only one who can close it.” Her voice had dropped to little more than a whisper, and they strained to hear her over the howl of the wind and the sharp crash of thunder as another bolt of lightning crackled overhead.

Dawn glanced at the P'lontus demon who smiled encouragingly. “Nish'tar has been teaching me how to control my powers,” she added, her voice shaking slightly as she dropped her gaze to study the small stream of water running across the bitumen towards the drain. “I can do this, Buffy.” She swallowed hard and raised her head once more, her chin jutting stubbornly as she looked her sister in the eye. “I have to at least try.”

Buffy closed her eyes for a moment, fighting down the urge to grab Dawn and run. “Alright,” she said finally, glancing at Spike and seeing the slight nod that said he'd back her, whichever way she chose to play this. “What do you need?”

“I have to get close enough to close the portal.”

~*~

Buffy had quickly shed her extra layers, stripping down to just jeans and t-shirt in anticipation of the battle ahead. They'd made their way through a series of alleys toward the portal. As they reached what Dawn decreed to be close enough, creatures—demons, Buffy assumed—began to spill from the ever widening rift, and Buffy had surged ahead, leaving Spike to protect Dawn and Nish'tar.

The sky continued to darken with each passing moment, the rift widening to allow more, and larger, demons to pass through. Buffy stabbed once more and another demon fell; her arm was beginning to ache from the constant supply of enemies.

A screech sounded and a large, ugly winged-lizard burst through the portal. “Huh, always thought you guys were meant to be pretty,” Buffy muttered, pushing a sopping strand of hair out of her eye and tightening her grip on her sword. “Looks like I get to play Saint Peter and slay the dragon.”

“George, love.” Spike stepped forward, sword swinging in lazy circles as he stepped up to her left.

“Spike, what are you doing here?” She glanced back up the alley to where she'd left him guarding Dawn, but the steady stream of rain and the ever decreasing light meant visibility was down to a minimum and she could make nothing out in the darkness.

“Could ask you the same question, Slayer,” he responded. “Last person I expected to see tonight. Watch out,” he added before throwing himself sideways to avoid the gush of flame that lit the alley where the two warriors had just been standing.

“What do you mean?” Buffy asked, kipping quickly to her feet from where she'd landed on the far side of the alley. “I'm fighting the monsters, you're meant to be guarding Dawn, remember?” She lashed out, catching the dragon's underside with the tip of her sword as it passed. The creature screamed, flapping hard to gain height before spinning on one wing and diving towards them once more.

“Dawn?” Spike asked, grabbing Buffy's arm and dragging her behind a dumpster as another jet of flame lit up the alley. “What's the bloody hell is the Bit doing here?” he demanded.

“Wha...” Buffy stared at him for a moment. “Oh, okay, you're another one.”

“Another...?”

“No time,” Buffy told him, dragging him back out from behind the dumpster as the dragon turned for another pass. “Give me a hand.” She took a few steps backward and indicated up to where the dragon was swooping toward them. Spike nodded and lifted Buffy as she completed a quick run-up and stepped into his linked hands. She somersaulted through the air, thrusting upwards with two hands. Her sword sliced neatly through the dragon's soft underbelly as she completed the arc. She landed hard but rolled in time to avoid the gust of flame that accompanied yet another angry screech. The creature continued up the alley toward the portal, listing badly as it struggled to remain aloft.

“You know Angel's gonna be pissed. Had his eye on that.” Spike indicated the still-retreating dragon.

“Angel's here too?”

“Figured that's why you were here. Come to save your honey-bear.”

Buffy glared. “Angel is not my... Or at least, I don't think he...” She sighed; she was really getting sick of all these dimensions. “Is he?” she asked.

Spike shrugged and turned away, sword lifting once more. “Got company, pet”

“Stop being avoidy,” Buffy snapped as she stepped to his side, her own sword raised to meet the new wave of demons.

“'m not.” Spike slashed, slicing a demon that looked a lot like Gollum in half.

“Are too,” Buffy responded. “Queen of avoidy here, Spike, I should know.”

“What do you want me to say?” he asked, continuing to stab and slice. “I was dying, you threw me a bone. Only problem is, I came back—don't expect you to...”

“Gaaah,” Buffy growled. “Look, I know this is gonna be hard to believe, but I'm not Buffy...or not your Buffy,” she added. “I'm from another dimension, I don't know what you're talking about, or what I'm supposed to have said or not said, so how about you cut me some slack and start from the beginning.”

“Another dimension?” Spike asked, one brow quirked in surprise.

“Yep,” Buffy replied, popping the ‘p' as she stabbed another of the small hunch-backed demons.

Spike filled her in as they fought, starting with his unrequited crush on her counterpart and hitting the highlights—or lowlights—of their relationship between his disastrous declaration of love in his crypt, to him standing in a rain-soaked alley in LA fighting the hordes of hell in Angel's war against Wolfram and Hart and the Blackthorn.

“You're an idiot,” Buffy concluded as he finished his tale.

“I'm a wha...”

A deafening pop accompanied a blinding flash of light as the portal collapsed rapidly in on itself before winking out with a last loud pop and the stench of burning flesh as those demons caught halfway through were sliced in half and cauterised, most were dead before they hit the ground. A shockwave accompanied the final pop, spreading rapidly outwards and knocking anything left standing to the ground.

Spike crawled over to where Buffy lay. “Buffy?” He reached out, touching her shoulder hesitantly. “You alright, love?” he asked as she groaned and climbed slowly to her feet.

“I think so,” she replied. “Spike,” she said more firmly, “go to her. Tell her—well, I'd start with a big ass apology for letting her think you've been dead all this time. But then, just tell her how you feel.”

“She's moved on.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe she's just trying to not hurt. I'd be willing to bet that if she said she loved you, she meant it. I...we...she...it's not something I'd say lightly, Spike—not even to a dying man.”

‘Buffy?” Spike's voice echoed down the alley along with the loud thud of his boots.

“I'm here,” Buffy replied, running to meet him.

He caught her up, spinning her once before kissing her breathless. “You're alright,” he said, and Buffy wasn't sure if it was a question or a declaration.

She nodded. “I had help,” she said, indicating the other Spike who now stood open-mouthed in the middle of the alley watching their reunion with a mixture of hope and longing shinning in his eyes.

“Dawn?” she asked.

“She's fine. Exhausted, but fine. Nish'tar's takin' care of her. Says she can take us home,” he said looking dubiously from his slayer to the alternate version of himself. “Whenever we're ready, that is,” he added. “No rush, if you're not done...”

Buffy smiled, shaking her head. “I am so done. Let's go.” She slid her hand down his arm, linking her fingers with his before turning back to look at the other Spike. “Go,” she said. “Tell her!” Then she smiled and turned away, walking hand in hand up the alley with the vampire she loved toward her sister, a strange red demon, and home.

the end


End file.
